


The Latin Series

by Raven (Temaris)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magnificent Seven AU: ATF, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2003-06-08
Updated: 2010-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-04 12:51:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 98,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Temaris/pseuds/Raven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JD faces massive debt following his mother's death and takes an unconventional route to pay it off.  NB: WORK IN PROGRESS, and NOT complete.</p><p>New chapter added 19 June 2010: Carborundum, Chapter 20.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Caveat Emptor

"But my dear boy, you were complaining the last time I saw you that it was impossible to meet anybody," Maude protested. "All I was trying to do was ameliorate your difficulties in this area." She smiled sweetly and Ezra felt his mild, politely friendly expression slip another notch.

"Mother, I appreciate your efforts, truly I do. However, *this*," he gestured at the verdant gardens sparsely populated by clothed and naked patrons, "is absolutely not what I had in mind. For one thing, I would prefer to enter into a partnership with someone who was not financially obligated to me. And for another, how could you imagine that I, as a federal agent, could condone this, this *trafficking*?"

Maude's smile seemed to settle fixedly on her face. "Ezra, *dear*, kindly lower your voice. Ms LaFai will not appreciate either your crude interpretation of her party, nor your profession. These people," she gestured at a young woman posed against a tree, wearing nothing more than a long scarf hued in a dozen shades of green, "are all here because they choose to do something useful with their lives, and accept that their bodies are beautiful and worth including in the package. There is no compulsion; no 'trafficking' as you so delightfully put it." Her lips formed a moue of distaste. "You have chosen to consider a path that is fraught with danger and difficulty. I am simply attempting to ease that path a little, as any good mother would." She smiled and placed a hand on his wrist.

Ezra blinked. "I can understand you attempting to set me up with partners. It is something you have been doing since I was barely out of infancy. But mother, I don't think... no. I really don't think so." His eyes drifted towards a pretty lad who didn't look old enough to be shaving, much less legally competent to make a choice about being here. His face hardened, and he took two quick steps towards him before a firm grip on his wrist brought him to a halt.

"Every one of them is of full age. Don't you dare embarrass me!" she hissed, and Ezra drew a deep breath. "If you must insist on being a homosexual, then at least consider the young men here. They are clean, discreet, and willing to stand by your side for the period paid for. They have passed the most rigorous psychological testing: they are not addicts, they don't want to be prostitutes. All they want is a way to escape for six months, a year, and come out of it with something they can put on their cv's without embarrassment; maybe even beat whatever difficulties they have faced that leave them looking for money."

"Half a million?" Ezra said quietly. "I could take any of these home for half a million and keep them for a year. Do as I pleased to them. And you think I would actually approve?!"

Maude smirked at him, and glanced at the boy he'd been eyeing. He wrenched his eyes away, and she shook her head with a sigh. "I think you misunderstand. *They* pick too. They are under no obligation to leave with anyone here. And the contract between you will be very specific about what you can and cannot do. They do not want to have any, ah, conflict of opinion about what exactly half a million buys."

"No. I don't think so." Ezra turned and met his mother's amused gaze squarely. "I think I would rather find my own companionship."

Maude reddened. "I'm afraid you, ah, can't turn me down."

"I most certainly can." He tried to remove her hand from its grip on his arm, and winced as her nails dug in.

"I have already paid the necessary money."

"How the hell did you get half a million -- and why are you giving it away... oh no..." he shook his head in denial. "No. You're trying to clean dirty money."

"Not dirty, darling. Certainly not anything that would upset most people."

"So not drugs. Who?"

"J.C. Torrence."

Ezra froze. The man lurked on the borderlands of legality, a fortune that apparently was based in property had some definitely dark places. "You embezzled from him?"

"Not exactly. Just, I can't give the money back, and I _certainly_ can't keep it; I wanted to do something nice for my darling boy, and this place suited both my needs and yours."

Ezra drew a deep, careful breath. "Very well. He will be the most expensive secretary-cum-housekeeper in human history, but you win." He flicked a glance back at the dark haired boy still watching him. "I'll take one of those," he said coldly, and started to walk away. "Tell me where to sign."

"You're assuming the boy wants to go with you," Maude said snidely, and Ezra paused.

"Stay here." He walked slowly back to the boy. He was sitting in the 'Thinker' pose, and smiled at Ezra as he approached, transforming his face from prettiness to something astonishingly attractive. The change lay not so much in his features as the personality reflected in them. He looked maybe late teens, but according to what Maude claimed were the terms of this place he had to be over twenty-one, with dark hair, open hazel eyes. Nicely toned body -- either the boy was very active, or he worked out a lot. Ezra walked slowly around him. Kid was more than just toned, he was well built and Ezra swallowed back his tinge of reaction at the size of the boy. "I'm Ezra," he said finally, responding to the boy's smile with a smile of his own.

"John." The kid bit at his lower lip, then stopped himself. "I'm twenty-two," he added, a shy glance peeping up through ridiculously long lashes, "Everyone's asked me that. And then they didn't really believe me, I think. But really I am."

Ezra sighed, and settled on the bench near him. "I have a slightly peculiar situation--" He stopped as the organiser of the 'party' headed purposefully towards him, clued in by one of the near invisible staff no doubt that Ezra was looking like making a choice.

"Mr. Simpson! Have you decided to take away my favourite troublemaker?" She slid an arm around his waist and leaned in, smiling, enveloping him in a cloud of softly fragranced air.

"Trouble maker?" Ezra asked cautiously.

"Not in a bad way," Donna LaFai smiled, laughing, "It's just, well, if there's something going on, John's always somewhere on the edges."

"I really don't think a troublemaker is--" he caught the sudden dejection in the boy's eyes and smoothly changed what he had been about to say, "the way I would describe anyone with such a sweet face."

Donna's eyebrows twitched, but she merely smiled at John. "Well? Ezra's clean, well-to-do. He owns a house outside Denver with land, even horses, I believe your mother said," she said, wicked merriment in her eyes, so much so that Ezra *knew* he'd been had.

"I do but--" She carried on over him.

"John loves riding, hasn't had a chance in a while. The money will cover his university and medical bills. He should have something left over at the end, but you will be fully responsible for his upkeep, accommodation and regular pocket money."

"Medical?" Ezra's eyes ran over the boy's naked form.

John attempted a smile, and said softly, "My mother's."

"I'm sorry, is she--"

Donna's touch on his arm stopped him and she shook her head sadly. "John is in excellent health. He has two degrees, and dropped out whilst pursuing his third, a doctorate on heuristic learning in robots to care for his mother until she passed four months ago."

"I *am* sorry," he repeated, his eyes worried at the quiet sorrow on the boy's face.

Donna smiled. "John, is Ezra acceptable?"

"As long as he's okay with my sheet." John nodded shyly.

"I'm quite sure he will be," she smiled warmly at them both. "I'll just bring John's out for you to read, and if you could fill in your own while I'm getting his?" She handed him a folder and a pen and hurried away. Ezra looked for Maude but she too had vanished.

"Aren't you cold like that?" he asked curiously, putting off looking at the paperwork in his hands. Surely to God he wasn't really going to take a sex slave home?!

John shrugged. "Not really," but as though the question had reminded him, he shivered, and goosebumps broke out across his back and arms, and he grinned. "Oh, _that's_ attractive. You still sure?"

"Yes," he said firmly, and wondered at himself.

"You better do the form. Then we can swap."

Ezra frowned and opened the dark leather folder. He read carefully through the list of 'required', 'permitted', 'no preference' and 'forbidden' activities, a nineteen page list. It included everything from sexual activities that he never wanted to consider again, through to household chores, clothing preferences, jobs, descriptions of levels of social contact -- him with the companion, the companion with others, friends of his with the companion. He scowled, and started checking boxes. The boy could do as he pleased; he was not going to be required to even meet, much less sleep with, submit to, or be passed around among his friends and acquaintances. His lips thinned and the pen dug deeper. He considered every option, some briefly before crossing it out, some carefully. He was about to cross off sex from every column, and paused. instead he ticked, 'permitted' and scrawled next to it 'not required'. His dick twitched in his pants and he flickered a look at him. He wasn't going to say no, but--

"Here." He handed the folder over.

"I think Donna's supposed to read it first," John objected, and Ezra smiled.

"If I'm paying half a million for you, I rather think I can make some decisions about who needs to know more about me."

"Okay." The boy shrugged, and Ezra blinked, still waiting for the boy to query his convoluted speech.

"Are you serious?" he asked five minutes later.

"Serious? I rarely play jokes, particularly not with human lives."

"But -- I thought--"

"I'm not interested in 'owning' you, John. All I need is someone to keep an eye on my house and my horses. Keep my paperwork up to date." He hesitated; the boy was frowning, and he added, "I'd like to get to know you. If we want to do something else, then that is completely apart from this arrangement. But I am a very vanilla kind of man, I don't think we're going to be doing most of the stuff on that list," he grinned and after a moment, so did John.

"I had to look up half those things," he confided, and shuffled closer towards Ezra. "You're going to laugh when you see my form." He shivered and Ezra took off his leather jacket and draped it over John's shoulders.

"Here. If you need something, just ask. I can't look after you if you don't tell me you are cold, or hungry," he added accusingly as John's stomach rumbled.

"I was kinda nervous. Didn't want to barf over anyone's hundred dollar shoes, so I sort of skipped lunch."

Ezra closed his eyes. "Thank you for that exquisite mental image." He looked at John to discover a twinkle in his eyes. "I'm startin' to perceive what Ms LeFai may have meant when she called you a troublemaker. And I probably should point out that I sincerely doubt there are any shoes so cheap as to cost a mere hundred dollars here."

"Just as well I didn't puke on 'em, then, huh?" The boy tentatively leaned in, and Ezra shifted awkwardly until he gave in and laid his arm over his shoulders.

They both jumped when Donna's voice broke the comfortable silence. "Glad to see the age of chivalry is still alive and well, Mr. Simpson. This is John's sheet." She handed over another leather bound folder, and picked up the one Ezra had just filled in. She was smiling as she flicked through it. "Well, I would say you two are remarkably well suited. John, do you want to head up to the house and get dressed? Take the new clothes by your locker; everything else is in Mr. Simpson's car." She wasn't requesting and John rose to his feet and left, unaware of Ezra's eyes on his back -- and his still uncovered ass.

"Have you read through?"

Ezra dropped his eyes back to the forms. "Yes. Can I..." he stuttered to a halt. "Can I keep this?"

"Of course. I have one as well, in case of any disputes, but really, his terms are very simple."

Ezra nodded, glancing back up to the big house, but John had disappeared inside. "So far as I can tell, he wants someone to be a friend, and maybe to love him and look after him." He laughed ruefully. "Maybe just accept him the way he is."

"He's a good boy. Completely innocent, and very sweet. Take care of him, Mr. Standish, or I will ensure that you never require companionship of any description again. And that is not from Madame LaFai. It is from someone who has spent the last three weeks mothering him."

Ezra simply nodded, accepting without comment the fact that she knew his name. In some ways it reassured him that she had researched him before allowing him anywhere near her party. "What the hell was he doing here?"

Donna smiled sadly. "He really does need the money. And he really does think he could do anything for it." She smiled up at him, lifting the folder he had filled in, "I am pleased to see you will not ask him for anything he cannot do." She laughed suddenly, and he raised a quizzical eyebrow at her. "I made him do the form three times. The first time he ticked everything as 'permitted'. Can you imagine?" She laughed again at a joke Ezra had a nasty feeling it was going to take him time to appreciate. "John as a submissive! Or, for god's sake, a dom!"

Ezra reluctantly began to laugh too.

"He's a good kid. And you're a good man. Take care of him?"

"I promise," he found himself saying and wondered at himself.

"Well then. Sign here-- thank you, and here, both pages. Good. John's waiting in your car." She closed the folders with a snap. "I'll send you the originals by hand tomorrow." She held out her hand and he shook it. "A pleasure doing business with you," she smiled, and left.

Ezra opened his mouth to say something, and closed it again. Tried again. Failed. He stood and walked slowly up towards the front of the house where no doubt, his car, complete with his newly purchased handyman, was waiting for him. "What just happened here?" he asked the darkening sky plaintively.

He looked around. The gardens were empty, the house dark, and as the first drops of rain hit his Armani suit jacket he broke into a run. "If nothing else, that boy owes me a coat!"

* * *


	2. Meretor

The hour and a half journey to Ezra's home was conducted in silence. Ezra could feel the weight of John's sneaked glances at him, but chose to ignore them. He could envisage only too easily the traffic accident waiting to happen if he started to talk with his newly 'acquired' companion.

Skirting the edges of Denver he seized the opportunity afforded by a stop light to take a quick look at him.

John's eyes were closed, although the too quick breathing and clenched knuckles betrayed him. Ridiculously long lashes lay on pale, high cheekbones, the lashes as dark as the short hair and the beetle black eyebrows. Those clenched hands were pale too, the fingers fine and slender. He was neatly dressed in dark slacks and blazer, an open neck shirt in soft blue softening the pallor of the almost blue-white skin of his throat.

A horn wrenched him back to the road, and he accelerated away, scowling at the irate driver behind him.

"It occurs to me," he spoke as though picking up an earlier conversation and John jerked, kicking the foot well hard enough to make Ezra wince before he realised where he was.

"Yeah?" John restrained a huge yawn, and Ezra sighed soundlessly.

"It occurs to me," he repeated patiently, "That I should tell you a little about my life if I expect you to fit into it. We will also need a cover story."

John grinned. "Cool! Like an undercover spy." He pulled what he apparently appeared to think was a 'spy' face, eyes slitted, glancing back and forth as though watching a flea jumpathon.

"Not cool." Ezra gritted out. "Not cool at all."

"Sorry," John apologized quietly, and Ezra stole a quick glance of him before indicating right into his street.

"Don't apologise. Look. John, I'm-- damn." He pulled into his parking space in front of his house, and turned the engine off. "Let's take this inside."

John followed him without a word, looking his surroundings with unexpectedly thoughtful eyes.

"What do you do?" he asked.

"Beer?" Ezra pulled one out of the fridge and offered it to him. "No?" John shook his head. "Well, *I* need one." He popped the top and took a long swig, then pulled a face. "I keep this stuff for some friends of mine."

"What I do is the exact problem here." Ezra wandered back out of the kitchen and waved vaguely to a door on the other side of the corridor, "Living room. Dining room. Study. Bathroom on your left." He paused at the foot of the stairs. "I have a couple of problems, you see." He took another gulp of the bitter tasting stuff. "I don't know why anyone drinks this. It's worse than horse piss."

"Because they're trying to avoid their problems?" John asked dryly, and Ezra sent him a piercing look.

"Not as stupid as you pretend. This might just work."

"Thanks. I think." John tugged the bottle out of Ezra's hand and put it on a side table. He then slipped his hand into Ezra's and tugged him into the living room. "Come on, what's so bad about what you do?"

Ezra sat down next to John on the sofa, then leaned forward dropping his head in his hands. "I'm a federal agent."

"Cool, FBI?"

"No, ATF." Ezra snapped. "Everyone always assumes it's FBI. Do you know how many agencies there are who employ federal agents?" John shook his head, "Me neither." His burst of irritation subsided as quickly as it had appeared. "How the hell am I going to explain you to my colleagues? Oh god. Or to Larabee."

"Who's Larabee," John asked innocently.

"Hell on wheels. Trouble on two legs. Terror walking incarnate among us." He threw a glance at the doorway, half expecting his black clad senior agent to be slouched there, fixing him with his piercing gaze. "Or, put another way, my boss."

"Why would he need to know?"

"Because Larabee runs a tight ship, and you're not on the manifest. Damn." He tried to think of a solution to explain his brand new houseboy, and failed. John's hand rubbed slow circles on his back and he unconsciously leaned into the reassuring touch.

"What's the worst he can do? Fire you?"

"No, that would be the most merciful thing. Be grateful you don't know anyone on Team Seven." Ezra shook his head. "When Sartre said hell was other people, he was thinking of Nathan Jackson, Vincent Tanner, Josiah Sanchez, Christopher Larabee and especially Buck Wilmington." He flinched, glancing at the doorway again.

"You expecting someone?"

"Not someone, John. Them. There is a certain inevitability in this uncertain world, that if I dare to malign my cohorts, they will appear to make witless comments which will reduce the others to stitches."

John appeared to be suppressing a grin. "Would it help if I said I wasn't afraid?" He took Ezra's clenched fist and carefully straightened out one finger at a time, stroking around the long slender palm.

"Not in the least -- John, that really is quite distracting."

"My name's JD. And I was wondering something."

Ezra looked doubtfully at him. "What?"

Abruptly John was straddling his lap and smiling at him from inches away. "If this," he pressed a soft kiss to Ezra's lips, "Was more or less distracting than this?" He circled Ezra's palm delicately with one fingernail again.

"I, ah, I--" Ezra swallowed, trying to get some moisture into his mouth.

"Feeling dry?" John asked sympathetically, and licked over Ezra's mouth. "Here. Have some of mine."

"That is a revolti--" Ezra's mouth was filled with tongue as John took full advantage of his open lips. Ezra groaned. It had been a while since he had so much as touched another man with any more than friendship in his heart, and the sensation whipped through him, his cock hardening, his ass tightening, his arms wrapping instinctively around John's waist.

John tasted minty and sweet, and his tongue drifted slowly over his lips and teeth. Ezra licked at him, feeling the warmth spreading from crotch outwards, shudders trembling up his spine until he felt dizzy with heat and need.

"John..."

"Ez..." He lifted his mouth for a moment, then seized it again. "Call me JD..." he whispered. "John sounds like you're about to tell me to go clean my room," he smiled into Ezra's eyes, and Ezra pulled him forward, tugging until they were sprawled together on the leather couch. John -- JD, was warm and solid in his arms.

He shifted rhythmically against him, pushing as close as he could, worming one leg high between JD's thighs. Both of them groaned as his thigh pressed up into the hard flesh at the fork of JD's legs. JD pushed back with his hips, and they lost themselves in the mindless motion. Ezra gasped and pushed up hard as a hand pulled at his shirt, dragging it free of his pants and slipping up to touch the bare skin of his back.

Another touch at his wrist tugged hard at his cuffs and he reached his arms around his lover, swiftly undoing the awkward cuff links. JD twisted until Ezra was beneath him and propped himself up, intently undoing his buttons, licking with delicate laps at the revealed flesh. Ezra cried out, sheer pleasure arching his back up, pushing his cock into the cloth-covered crotch straddling him.

"John..." he moaned.

JD's hands pulled the tail of the shirt out of the front of his pants and then slowly, firmly slid his hands up Ezra's chest, pushing the material aside, dragging hard across his hard nipples and cupping Ezra's shoulders, dragging the shirt off him completely, leaving him bare-chested and gasping for air, staring up at the young man. He smiled slowly, and leaned down to press a breath stealing kiss on Ezra's mouth, then sat up again, grinding his ass against his swollen cock. Ezra moaned, long and helpless.

"You, god, John..."

"JD," he said firmly, and lifted his body away as if to punish Ezra.

Bereft, he grabbed at JD's wrists, "No, come back here, I--"

"Hey." JD pulled his hands away, twisting them out of Ezra's hard grip, "Easy. I'm just taking off my shirt. Figured you might like to check out the merchandise." He smiled mischievously at Ezra, but his words were like cold water in the man's face. He froze.

"JD, we should take this more slowly. I told you, I was quite happy to have you working around the house, sex isn't required."

JD grinned, unfazed. "I know." He scraped a fingernail over Ezra's right tit, then absently flicked it over and over. "Makes you seem even sexier than that hot suit," he leaned down and bit Ezra's left nipple just as he was starting to think that his chest would explode with frustration at the attention lavished on only one tiny portion. His hips jerked and JD settled back again. "Or that *hot* car," he ground his hips into Ezra's pelvis. "You know, coming home, all I could think about was fucking over the hood of the Jag, maybe you spread out bare ass naked, on your back, and me riding up into you." Ezra groaned helplessly at the mental image, and desperately tried to calm his excitement enough that he wouldn't come half dressed, on the words of a man he had met less than three hours previously. "Or," JD went on with a thoughtful pause, "me face down, you fucking me." His back arched, and he pushed his buttocks suggestively against Ezra's cock.

He lifted his hips and scooted back a little, stroking down his lover's flanks and then playing idly with the button at the top of Ezra's pants. "Kinda hot too, the idea that you *own* me," JD's voice dropped on the word, and Ezra's cock spasmed, and he was coming in his thousand dollar Armani pants.

He wasn't entirely sure how long he had been lying naked on the couch, tangled inextricably with his lover who was dropping soft, brief kisses over as much of his shoulder, chest, neck and face as he could reach. It was long enough for his sweat to have welded him painfully to the leather upholstery, he was sure, but he really didn't care.

"You are amazin', darlin'," he said, his voice croaked, and he smiled. "I don't think I've fallen that hard for a long time."

"Yeah?" The kid tilted his head up to meet his eyes for just a fraction of a second. "You liked it then?"

"The only thing I'd've liked better was to take this--take *you*, to my bed, and finish you off in my ass," he blurted.

JD's smile was blinding. "That can be arranged." He shifted minutely and Ezra became aware at a conscious level of the hard length of cock trapped between their bodies. Ezra reddened.

"I'm sorry, darlin', I left you--"

JD blushed and shook his head. "That's um, me feeling better again after messing my pants when you came." Ezra laughed and wrapped his arms warmly around him.

"The recovery time of youth!" he grinned, "Well, we'd better not waste it." He pushed at JD, who rose, and reached a hand to his partner. Ezra took it and groaned at he came away from the leather with an audible tearing sound.

"Ow!"

"God, I'm sorry, are you okay? Let me see?" He was turned around and cool hands ran carefully over his back.

"I'm fine, John, truly I am." He gasped. JD's hands slid over his bare buttocks, then squeezed, pulling him apart, exposing his hole. "Oh dear god."

"You like?"

Ezra turned and seized his hand. "Bedroom. Before we try to consummate this relationship however bizarre, on that vilely painful sofa." He tugged and JD followed him with alacrity up the stairs. "My room." He waved vaguely at the doors in the wall. "Bathroom. Closet. Bed." He pushed JD onto the wide king sized bed and tumbled after him when JD pulled at their still clasped hands.

"Stuff?" JD asked after a long moment spent kissing and wriggling to get under the covers.

"Damn." Ezra lifted his head to look at the bathroom door. "It's in there."

They both eyed the distance between the door and the bed reluctantly.

"I could go?"

"I know where it is. I'll be faster," he refused. He kissed JD's lips hard, then leapt off the bed, ran into the bathroom, slammed open the cabinet, grabbed a tube of lubricant and an unopened packet of condoms, and sprinted back, throwing himself onto the bed. JD laughed and grabbed the lube off him.

"Roll over, babe," he said and pulled at Ezra's hips until he was on his stomach, still trying to pull open the box of condoms. "Ass up." Ezra groaned, and laughed, and complied. The box broke open and foil packets scattered across the pillows. He reached for one, and wailed as JD's tongue licked at his asshole.

"John!" He pushed back against the hard wet muscle exploring his crack, his dick rock hard and all interest in the condoms fled. His breath came faster and faster. JD's hands were gripping his hips, holding him as he tried to pump backwards, and then forwards, desperate for more stimulation as the heated wetness of JD's tongue slid over, around his hole, then finally, finally pressed so hard at his entrance that he breached the muscle, and slid inside. He was vaguely aware of someone babbling like a complete idiot, but couldn't spare the attention to tell them to shut up, utterly riveted as he was on the sensations flooding his ass.

"Condom?"

Ezra moaned. The blissful rimming had stopped. He canted his ass up, begging for more, and was slightly mollified by a finger dragging back and forth over his aching hole. "In, please?"

"In a minute," John's voice promised, and then broke the promise by immediately pressing a blunt finger tip into Ezra's anus. The bed shifted and there was a rustling sound. The finger slid deeper, burning like salt in a wound, feeling unbearably thick and hard in his soft tender ass. "I'm not sure I can do this one handed--" the finger started to slide out and Ezra clamped down with his muscles. "Ow! Hey, ease off, I'm not going anywhere. Okay, one handed it is. But don't blame me if you get pregnant."

"What are you *talking* about?" He was rather proud of getting out a coherent sentence. The finger twisted in his hole and he lost track utterly.

"Talking about? Ezra, my lord and master," the finger withdrew and something impossibly thick settled its tip into his crack, "my owner, my trick, my john, my utter *babe*," and John's cock sank into him, "I'm talking about this."

Ezra's breath caught in his throat, too dry to even draw air into his burning lungs, all his world focused on the burning entry of slick latex sheathed dick up into his eager bottom. JD moved slowly but inexorably deeper, and deeper. And deeper, until it seemed impossible he would ever stop burrowing into Ezra's body. Warm weight settled on his back and he smiled at the press of lips between his shoulder blades. They held still. Ezra's breathing lifting JD on his back, shifting the hard erection minutely inside of him.

"You okay?" JD asked quietly. His hands were smoothing up and down Ezra's flanks. Ezra turned his head, twisted around until he could reach back and pull JD into an awkward, passionate kiss.

"Move," Ezra whispered into his mouth, and shoved up.

They lost themselves in the movement of fucking, thrusting eagerly. Each stroke dragged pleasure searing from the walls of his channel, his tight passage clinging to the cock filling him up until he felt as though he could never feel empty again. His whole body tensed with pleasure, fire burning in his gut.

He barely knew what was happening when JD's cock started moving harder into him, the strokes losing their easy rhythm and ramming home with hard, irregular thrusts. He was too lost in his own orgasm, crying out his lover's name over and over, small gasps that sounded almost like sobs filling the air.

He woke slowly. Light was streaming through the curtains, and he turned his head awkwardly towards his alarm clock. A warm weight was sprawled over his back, and his asshole was stretched around a hard cock. JD was snoring softly against his shoulder, and he shifted his derriere slightly. JD's erection sank deeper inside him and he whimpered. He was going to be astonishingly sore at work today. If JD had stayed in his ass all night, for a clear nine hours, then he was probably not even going to be able to walk, much less sit down.

JD shifted against him, thrusting slowly at first, and then faster and harder. He still wasn't sure if his lover was awake or asleep until JD gasped into his shoulder.

"God, Ez!"

"Good morning, Mr. Dunne," Ezra replied, spoiling the effect with a groan as a particularly well angled thrust sent shudders through his body and straight to his cock. He squeezed lightly in time with JD, until the younger man gulped, breathing erratically, and slammed himself into Ezra, holding nearly still, just tiny jerks of his hips against Ezra's body indicating that he was trying to go deeper as he came.

"Well, Mr. Standish?" JD sounded like he was smiling, and Ezra groaned and buried his face in his pillow.

"Get off me. I am going to be utterly unable to move today, between your importunate organ and your personal sleeping arrangements."

JD stretched slowly, and nibbled at Ezra's shoulder. "Were you planning on going to work today?" he asked idly, drawing little circles on Ezra's palm.

"If you would be so kind as to remove your member from my posterior, yes."

JD shifted a little. His dick was hard enough, and Ezra's ass slick enough, to allow him to push and pull slowly in and out of Ezra's ass.

"You sure?" he said, laughter in his voice. He pushed in firmly, then reached in-between them and carefully eased himself out of Ezra, gripping the condom in place.

"Christ!" Ezra swore. His anus felt as though it was gaping wide and might never close again. He cautiously tensed the muscle and groaned. JD rolled off of him and rubbed a friendly hand over his lower back.

"Probably shouldn't have done that," he observed. "Your back's going to be killing you."

"That is not the only, nor indeed the most vociferous piece of my anatomy complaining about my activities last night." Ezra flopped onto his back and grimaced as his bottom hit the mattress. "Oh, this is *not* going to be pleasant."

"Sorry, Ez." JD's hand stroked over his belly, and he curled up close. He tucked his head onto Ezra's shoulder, and added, "Could you call in sick?"

"My dear man, I would not be excused for anything less than calling in dead. And I would be expected to produce a certificate to that effect."

"Your boss sounds like a real hardass."

"You have no idea," Ezra agreed fervently. He glanced at the clock. "And I have approximately an hour to get up and out of the house if I am to get in before he starts calling, and you answer the phone, and I have to answer questions that I have, at present, not the smallest inkling how to address."

"Do you always use twenty words when two would do?" JD's hand circled lightly around his belly button, first clockwise, then anticlockwise, back and forth. Ezra shrugged.

"Why 'JD'?"

"Because it's what I'm used to. Because there are enough people called John out there, and I hate sounding like a restroom."

Ezra grinned. "Why Ez?"

"Because I felt like it. Why the twenty questions?"

"Think about it." JD nodded silently.

"You really got to get up?"

"Regrettably I do." They kissed, slow and soft and sloppy. "I wish I could remain, but I may not."

"Go on. I'm not going anywhere." Ezra eased out of the bed, and limped over to the bathroom. He grimaced at the disarray he found, the cabinet door was wide open and a dozen packets had fallen out in his frantic search for protection. Then he grinned. Hugely.

He turned on the shower and washed himself quickly but very carefully, particularly around certain areas. When he emerged he peeked around the door but John had disappeared from the bed. He sighed and started shaving, only to be surprised by a swat on his bottom as his lover dived past him into the shower.

"I was getting my stuff," JD called. "This is *nifty*," he added as the water started drumming down onto his back and shoulders. "Maybe we could save water next time..."

Ezra's grin broke into laughter. "I very much doubt that Adams County will appreciate our water conservation efforts." He chuckled again and had to pause shaving, lifting the straight edge away from his skin. He resumed and was quickly done. "Towels on the heated rack to the left as you come out," he advised JD, "I'm getting dressed, if you're not out by the time I'm done, come down for breakfast."

"Sure!" JD's voice echoed in the bathroom, and Ezra smiled again.

He dressed quickly and efficiently. Fine linen shirt, the suit made for him by Anderson and Shepard two years ago, he smoothed the material down, it was still as elegant as though it had just emerged from the tiny old-fashioned London shop.

Socks, shoes. He was examining ties, trying to decide on one when arms wrapped around his neck and a hand pointed to one in soft greens and blues.

"That one," JD said, and kissed his nape before releasing him.

Ezra pulled it out. It would do as well as most. "Why?" he asked as he knotted it expertly. He turned to face John--JD, and met his assessing look with one of his own.

"I thought so." JD stroked a finger down it and smiled. "I'll let you think about it."

Ezra smiled again, and after a moment's hesitation headed for the door, and breakfast. "If you want a bathrobe," he called over his shoulder, "there is one on the back of the bathroom door."

"Nah. I've got some cas stuff I can wear. Don't eat everything before I get there."

Ezra hurried down the stairs. Breakfast, toast and a glass of orange juice, a cup of percolated coffee was rapidly ready, and he took the tray out onto the deck, leaving the door open so JD could find him. He eased into the cushioned chair and stifled a grunt of discomfort. He was not limping, mostly by force of will, but sitting was acutely uncomfortable. He shifted, rocking a little, and closed his eyes, enjoying the reminder.

"Is it that bad?"

The unexpected voice startled him. "No. No, I'm fine."

"Uh-huh. Sure."

Ezra reddened, and admitted, "I am somewhat uncomfortable, however, it is a pain I acutely enjoyed the getting of. Je ne regrette rien." JD brushed a kiss on his hair and sat on the wooden floor at Ezra's feet.

"It was really good," JD peeked shyly up through those ridiculously long lashes and Ezra smiled.

"Extremely good," he agreed, sipping at the coffee. He took in the contents of JD's hands. "What the hell are you eating?"

"You had some pop-tarts in the cupboard, and Nesquick. Doesn't taste the same with two percent, but it's pretty good." He took a bite of the cold pastry and washed it down with a huge gulp of chocolate milk.

"Ah. You found Mr. Tanner's stash of junk food."

JD was about to take another bite but stopped for the briefest moment before continuing.

"Mr. Tanner?"

"Vincent or 'Vin' Tanner. One of my colleagues, or possibly more accurately, cohorts." He regarded JD thoughtfully, and added, "Mr. Tanner occasionally stays with me when he wishes to get out of the city, particularly if he is injured or Mr. Larabee is unable to accommodate him."

"Ah." JD visibly relaxed. He took another bite and chewed slowly. "I was wondering, um, you don't, like, have a boyfriend or something do you?"

"No. Distinctly not." He drained the orange juice and lowered the tray to the ground. "My profession is not so tolerant that I am willing to subject myself to the daily exposure of my tastes. Nor," he added more softly, "nor so safe that others are inclined to consider me an eligible choice of partner."

"Huh?"

"Being homosexual in Colorado isn't such a great time, kid," he patted JD's shoulder and rose.

"That's what you meant about cover stories." JD followed him in, trailing crumbs as he finished the last few bites of the pop-tart, his voice somewhat muffled.

"Indeed." He glanced at his watch. "And I do not have time to do this properly now."

"I'll be fine."

Ezra sighed. "The cleaner comes at ten. I will leave a note mentioning you on the kitchen counter. If anyone rings the phone, let it ring. You should have cell phone coverage here."

"If I had a cell phone."

"I thought students--"

JD smiled without humor. "Not poor students with major medical bills."

Ezra hesitated. "I will get you a phone. No," he said firmly at the mutinous look on JD's face, "if you are to be my companion for the next six months I must be able to get hold of you at any time. My job is deeply unpredictable, and I must be certain that I can get in touch with you if necessary."

"Do you get injured a lot, Ez?" JD's voice was worried, and Ezra cupped his cheek in his palm.

"That's not what I meant at all," he said mendaciously. The skeptical look on JD's face said he wasn't buying it.

"Whatever." JD shrugged, looking like he regretted showing any concern.

Ezra found paper and a pen and wrote a brief note, and tucked it into an envelope. "My cleaner's name is Mrs. Flores."

He scooped up his car and house keys. "There's a computer in the downstairs study; don't mess around with the files called 'work'. Keys." He tossed a set to him. "Don't mess around with the palomino in the fourth stall. You can ride the grey or the bay if you want. If anyone else comes here, get out. I should be home by eight."

He slung a coat over his shoulder and headed for the front door. "I'll see you later." He kissed him; it was meant to be quick but JD had other ideas. He wrapped his arms around Ezra and deepened the kiss, until Ezra's knees buckled.

He finally released him, and grinned with satisfaction into Ezra's dazed eyes. "Take care," was all he said, and stepped back.

"Have," Ezra swallowed and loosened his tie. "Have a good day."

He turned on his heel and fled for the Jag.

* * *


	3. de rerum natura

This was not good.

JD wandered back into the kitchen and rummaged first through the fridge, and then through the chest freezer in hopes of finding something to eat. About all he discovered was that his new lover enjoyed the finer things in life, and had long since left behind his student days of pizza and chips.

"If he ever had any student days," he muttered, eying the Spartan fridge with three bottles of champagne, a box of truffles, a half eaten pot of foie gras, and some sparkling mineral water.

He tore a chunk off the french stick in the bread bin, wiped it through the butter dish, and chunked some foie gras onto the end of it.

"Nice," he mumbled in surprise, spraying crumbs as he wandered back out onto the deck. It was unseasonably sunny, so he sprawled out in the sun lounger that Ezra had occupied earlier, and yawned hugely. He took another couple of bites of the bread, but soon his hand drooped, and it fell to the deck as he fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was not good.

The roads were as clear as he had ever seen them on a Thursday morning. The sky was a clear, glorious blue that reminded him of why he had come to the Rockies. The car was running smoothly. He should be in the office dead on eight o'clock.

This was *definitely* not good. It was positively disastrous. He might be able to add a few minutes at Mirans, a tiny coffee bar that sold filtered, pure-bean coffee the likes of which made Starbucks taste like the mud it was.

Perhaps if he stopped off at Starbucks as well, maybe picked up pastries and coffee all round... No. That would merely serve to instantly alert his overly inquisitive colleagues that he was seeking to conceal something.

He shifted uneasily in his seat, feeling the burn of his well used ass throbbing in gentle counterpoint to his slightly elevated heartbeat. Surely they would not know.

He groaned.

He was going to run the gauntlet of Mr. Wilmington's interrogation as to his unprecedented half day. Then, should he accidentally reveal that his mother was involved, or worse, if they had already found out in some manner, he would have to endure Mr. Sanchez' mawkish platitudes -- 'a fine figure of a woman' indeed. This would be further exacerbated by the supposedly subtle inquiries about his own well-being, ranging from Mr. Larabee's silent glower to Mr. Tanner's well meant 'You okay, Ez,' to Mr. Wilmington's jovial offers to perform unspecified acts of pain and degradation on his maternal parent should she ever happen to cross his path. A meeting he devoutly hoped would never eventuate.

"Why me?" he asked plaintively, and accelerated away from the stop light just as it turned red again, to the fury of the drivers behind him caught by it. He drove on, oblivious to their horns and alarums.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JD snored on.

Mrs Flores smiled as she spotted him outside, still reading the note Mr. Standish had left. Such a thoughtful man. She carefully pulled the deck door to, lest she disturb Mr. Dunne, and pulled out the vacuum cleaner.

JD didn't even twitch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Of course, Ezra thought as he eased the Jag through the ridiculously tight turn into the ATF parking garage, he could just tell them the truth.

He had met a complete stranger, swapped the most astonishingly intimate information with him, and his mother had paid said stranger, via an array of off-shore trusts, half a million dollars so Ezra could take him home and have sex with him. Really good, mind blowingly good, superlative, extraordinary, stupendous, astoundingly good sex. He shivered, and frowned. Perhaps if he imagined his colleagues' faces at this collection of revelations... Aah. Yes. A much better fit to his trousers.

"Retournerons a nous moutons," he remarked sternly, and smoothly slid the car into his parking slot. The door slammed with that peculiarly satisfying dull thud that eclipsed the common or garden slams, crashes and mere door closings of other, lesser cars. He patted it gently, and absently wiped the mark with a cloth that he tucked back into his briefcase.

The coffee really was exceptionally good. Although possibly he should refrain from thinking in superlatives, as they seemed to lead with remarkable persistence to other thoughts, less appropriate for his surroundings. He took another sip and smiled blissfully at the backs of his co-workers as they stood silently in the elevator together.

Perhaps a variation on the truth? Yet somehow he could not help but feel that 'I met him through my mother', while technically accurate, might lack a certain force as a successful introduction on a number of counts. Either they would not believe him, and started investigating what was going on, or worse they *would* believe him, and investigated what was going on while making John's life a misery looking into his background.

He could of course move the young man out to the cabin at the back of the property, and tell them he was a handyman, but he could immediately foresee that would require later explanation of a) why John wasn't actually doing any handyman type work; and b) why a PhD candidate was fixing (or not fixing) his fences and roof. And of course there was the uncomfortable discovery of issue c) that it would make regular sex with him damned difficult just when he had, somewhat to his own surprise, pencilled regular sex with John into his mental calendar for the foreseeable future.

He *could* simply not tell them anything, except if they ever found out, and his confidence in his team mates' ability to obtain the most improbable bits of information was more than sufficient to encompass them discovering John in a matter of hours, they would make his life a misery. And then they would make John's life a misery.

He gave fleeting thought to the idea of completely concealing John's presence in his life, but Tanner would spot something off the moment he entered Ezra's home and the others wouldn't be far behind.

Then there was the outright fabrication option, but that required John's co-operation, and he wasn't entirely convinced from what he had seen of the open young man so far that he would be capable of carrying off such a deception convincingly. It also required him to find time to construct, instruct, drill--bad word choice-- John about his supposed normal meeting with Ezra before anyone else found out about him.

In fact, the whole situation was a mess. Damn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damn. JD kicked irritatedly at the back door. What a mess. The wind must have blown it closed, and he was now stuck outside in jeans and t-shirt, not even a shirt or a pair of sneakers to keep him warm. And he was hungry.

He knocked on the window, but Mrs. Flores had left over an hour ago.

Still, he cheered himself, it was a glorious day, and Ez would be back in a few hours.

He wandered back to the sun lounger and spotted the fallen piece of bread. Ants were crawling over it, but just as he was about to put it down again, his stomach rumbled. He picked them off carefully, and finished it off. He looked around thoughtfully and spotted an outside faucet against one wall. He washed the bread (and a couple of stray _Aphaenogaster boulderensis smithi_ that were on the unexamined underside) down with two or three cupped handfuls of ice cold water, and sighed contentedly. This really was the life.

He drew a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He could break back into the house later. For now -- was that a swimming pool?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was drowning. There was no other possible explanation. He was unable to breathe. His clothing was soaking, and yet he felt a peculiar kind of peace washing over him. The sort that could only be a precursor to imminent death.

He eyed, with a kind of remote interest, Chris Larabee, who had been the recipient of the rest of Buck Wilmington's welcome back from lunch gift of a bucket of sugar water.

Imminent death indeed.

Tanner predictably seemed in peril of acute bladder incontinence. Mr. Sanchez was, as ever, gently amused. Mr. Jackson was railing about the dangers of tin buckets falling onto human skulls at a distance of no less than one foot.

"Buck!"

Mr. Larabee's unerring eye affixed the miscreant with a glare that probably could have dried their clothing, could its energy only be harnessed.

"Ah. Yes. Mr. Wilmington's attempts at humor. Please excuse me, Mr. Larabee, while I obtain some alternate attire from my car, and possibly a shower in the department gymnasium."

Larabee's glare slid around and pinned Ezra. "This is your own damn fault, Standish. If you would just *tell* the man, then I wouldn't be a walking ant farm all you can eat buffet."

"I'm sorry, sir," he lied without a tremor, "there is nothing to tell. I merely went out, and returned home. There is no more, alas. Perhaps I should fabricate something to entertain the masses," he flung a scathing look at Wilmington and Tanner, "since they will not accept my assurances that nothing happened that would be of any interest to them."

"Aha!" Buck pounced on the glimmer of an opening. "So something happened that might have been of interest to *you*. But, Ez, if it's interesting to *you*," he regarded Standish soulfully, "it's of interest to *us*." He clutched his hands to his heart with earnest emotion. Tanner fell off his chair.

"Vin, get up and stop screeching. Buck, leave the man alone. And clear up that damn mess."

Ezra began to relax.

"You," the finger of doom targeted him, once more, unerringly. "My office. Now."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JD peered upwards. The sun was definitely past its zenith and drifting slowly downwards into the lowlands of midafternoon. He twisted lazily onto his back and stroked back across the pool. He let his eyes slide shut, turning his face up to soak up more sun. He sculled gently with his fingers, and smiled as he slowly glided across the shallow steps, where he allowed himself to sprawl, feet bobbing gently in the water.

A car door slammed in the distance and he jack-knifed into a sitting position. Was that Ezra? He bounded out of the water, ignoring its drag on his feet and yanked on his boxers. Skinny dipping was all very well. And considering everything they'd done together it was foolish to be embarrassed... he paused. That burning sensation wasn't embarrassment, was it?

He peered down himself reluctantly and sighed. Sunburn. If he couldn't find some lotion fairly soon, the more sex part of his to-do list was going to be put on hold for a couple of days. He twisted to look down his back and stopped when the skin on his shoulder and neck protested sharply. He rummaged in his jeans pockets for a moment until he produced a paperclip and library card.

"Aha!"

Two minutes later he was rooting through Ezra's bathroom. Something vaguely Japanese sounding claimed to be aftersun, and he squirted a handful out and slathered it over his grateful skin. The stuff went further than he had expected, and he was left smeared and streaky, wiping helplessly at globs of the stuff, but only really moving it around.

It worked amazingly well though. It was cool and numbing going on, enough so that he felt able to pull on soft gray sweatpants and a loose cotton shirt. Neither chafed, and he smiled contentedly. His stomach rumbled, and he sighed.

"We've already established that Ez doesn't eat in, so far as I can tell." His hand left smears of lotion on the oiled mahogany banister as he walked back downstairs. "So does he have any takeout menus, or are they all preprogrammed into his phone?"

A half hour search of the house turned up nothing remotely like a takeout menu, and JD slumped onto the sofa, enjoying the coolness of the leather filtered through his shirt. "Nada. Fuckit." His eyes drifted across the sound system half concealed in the far wall. "Some tunes," he bounced to his feet, oblivious to the oily smears left on the sofa. He sorted rapidly through the man's collection, and in deference to his host's sensibilities, only put Verdi's Requiem up to three quarters of its full sound level. Dies Irae *rocked* the house on this system.

Hadn't Ez said something about a computer? He frowned and re-ran the conversation from the previous evening. Ah, yes, study, second door on right, ground floor. And since it didn't even occur to him that it wouldn't be connected to the internet, he headed in, turned it on, and started searching for places that would deliver. It took a couple of minutes before he remembered that he didn't know the phone number, much less an address for them to deliver to.

"Bummer." He sat back in the contoured desk chair, pausing to savor the comfort, wriggling a little to really get the benefit of the firm cushions and silky fabric under his sore shoulders. Ezra hadn't left any numbers. However...

An evil grin spread over JD's face. He stood, then stopped himself. "No. He paid half a million. I owe him. And he's shit scared about what his co-workers are going to think. I shouldn't."

He smiled widely. "On the other hand, I'm starving to death here in the lap of luxury, and if I don't eat I may be too weak to perform tonight. Clearly," he located the phone, and hit speed dial one, "it is my *duty* to call him."

"Magika's Massage and *Personal* Grooming," a sweet, low, female voice husked into his ear. JD pulled the phone away and peered at it in bemusement. "How may I help?"

"Er. Sorry. Wrong number."

Ooookay. So the man was bi. No problemo. None at all. He carefully deleted the number from the memory, just in case.

Speed dial two was more promising. A man's voice answered tersely, "Larabee!"

"Um. Hi. Can I speak to Mr. Standish?"

There was a frozen silence, then a thud as the phone was slammed down onto a hard surface, and JD started praying that he would never have to meet this Larabee person. A door opened and distantly he heard "Standish! Get in here. Phone." in arctic tones. The door shut again and the phone was lifted from the table where it had been dropped.

"Standish?" Ezra's voice was tentative.

"Oh, hey, Ez, it's me."

"*John*?"

"JD. But yeah. So, I was wondering, what's the address of this place, or the phone number, or um, like, both. Cos there's nothing in the cupboards, and believe me, I've looked, though I've gotta say you have *the* best after sun stuff, well, *had*, I kinda used a lot of it, and I was thinking, I could get takeout, or you know, get someone to deliver some groceries and I could cook, only I don't cook much. Three thousand variations on pasta, basically. So, let me know what time you're getting home, and I'll be you know, good little hausfrau, with dinner and after dinner drinks, and after drinks hot monkey sex. Ez?"

"Do you have an email address?" Ezra's voice sounded oddly pitched. A little higher than normal. JD grinned.

"Yup. JD underscore Dunne, don't worry about the capitals, at jddunne.com. Or anything at jddunne.com -- it'll hit me no matter what. Sexgod, hothooker, I'm sure you can think of something--"

"Yes, yes, fine," Ezra interrupted hastily, "I'm sure I will think of something. I will email the required information to you as soon as I can."

"Cool."

"I will speak to you shortly, John."

"'kay. Bye Ez."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"John! Please don't call this number again! John?" But the only reply was the silence of a truncated call.

Ezra returned Chris' cell phone with a weak smile. "A friend. Can't imagine how he got your phone number."

"I can't imagine either." Chris was staring sternly at his agent. "Perhaps you would like to save me the trouble of imagining."

"I expect he may have accidentally hit the speed dial on my phone at home," he offered meekly.

"Ah. So your 'friend' is staying at your place." Chris' expression was bland and unreadable. "Would this 'friend' be the reason you took yesterday afternoon as a personal day?"

"Ah, oh, well," he stuttered uncharacteristically, "I suppose in a manner of speaking one might, yes, indeed, definitely say, but on the other hand, it was not, as it were, intentionally so, more pre-empted from an afternoon of something quite other. Indeed."

Chris scowled.

Ezra smiled weakly, it seemed to be becoming a new habit, and kept his mouth shut.

"Go on, get back to work. And for god's sake remember to email him your phone number and address."

Ezra's confident stride towards the door of Larabee's office bobbled. No. Surely not.

He chanced a look over his shoulder. Larabee was smirking, slightly, faintly, but definitely smirking. "You might wanna tell the little hausfrau to tone his phone voice down some too."

Ezra walked into the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JD hung up, and drifted back to the computer to wait for the anticipated email. Ten minutes later he had networked his laptop to Ez's desktop, and installed the documents and software he needed to compile his AI program onto Ezra's machine. Fifty minutes later he had started rebuilding Ezra's system from the ground up, first carefully ghosting the entire system onto a partition on his much larger hard drive. He didn't download any messages. He didn't hear the phone. Or the yelling from the answer machine.

By the time Ezra was about to go insane from not hearing from him, JD had reinstalled most of the software Ezra appeared to use regularly, having tweaked it to work faster, and had installed his own little security protocol that had frustrated more than one would-be plagiarist's attempt to steal his data. It was shortly after six when he surfaced long enough to actually download his email. He smiled at the first message, blinked at the second, and squinted in bemusement at the third through seventh, the subject for each of which had increasing amounts of capitals and exclamation marks.

> **Address as requested**
> 
> **Please confirm receipt of prior message**
> 
> **FWD: address as requested! Please let me know if you have received it!**
> 
> **are you there?!**
> 
> **John! I[m serious! CALL ME!!**
> 
> **ANSWER your frigging emails, goddammit!**
> 
> **PICK UP THE PHONE!!!**

All from one e.p.standish@denver.atf.gov; all sent, demurely, to John at jddunne.com. He was somewhat disappointed that Ezra hadn't taken advantage of the sexgod@ address he'd suggested.

JD shrugged, and sent one reply back. From the sexgod.

"Hey, Ez, tx 4 addy. pizza okay w/u? JD (hey, chill! Been fixing your computer ;-)"

He hit send with a blissfully evil smile on his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You okay, Ez?" Tanner asked, a frown on his face.

"I repeat, I am absolutely-- oh thank god." He double clicked on the new email with alacrity, leaned forward, tilted his monitor, turned *off* his monitor and waited for his colleagues to sit back at their own desks.

"Bet it's a girrrrrrl," Buck managed to imbue the word with more salacious tackiness than Austin Powers himself.

Ezra told him so.

"He's got the mojo, and I've got the magnetism," Buck smirked cheerfully, "If ya got it, ya got it. I'm right, aren't I?"

"You cannot imagine how wrong you are, Mr Wilmington."

Mr. Wilmington's eyes widened, and Ezra's suddenly snapped to his with imploring horror.

"Pretty, foxy little thing hidden away in that love shack o'yours," he went on blithely, and Ezra breathed a sigh of relief. If he had guessed at least he was gentleman enough to say nothing.

"Anyone for a drink?" Buck offered, taking pity on him.

"Coffee."

"Coffee."

"Thank you, but no."

"Herbal tea, no sugar."

"Double espresso, extra sugar."

Buck blinked and shrugged amiably. He had offered, after all.

Ezra waited until the interest in his computer had faded, and turned the screen back on. Two seconds later he was dialing his home telephone with shaking fingers stabbing at the buttons.

"John. John! Pick up! Now!"

"Ey Ez, whassup?"

"Restore my computer. Immediately."

"Well, I can't do that, but--"

"No, you misunderstood,"

"Ez, chill!"

"When I said 'restore my computer', I did not mean"

"Ez, calm down!"

"'attempt to restore it', or 'please have a go at restoring it'"

"Ez, I know what I'm doing!"

"I meant, you will restore it or spend the next six months wondering when I will castrate you!"

"Aw, you don't mean that, Ez. Look, I just--"

"I don't care what you just. And do not call me by that ridiculous appellation!"

"Ezra, shut the fuck *up* willya?"

Ezra waited.

"Your stuff is right where it always was. I've password protected it, and beefed up your non-existent security system."

"That was a state of the art federal government firewall!" Ezra wailed in protest.

"As I said," John's tone was dry. "Your computer's feeling much better now. It's the equivalent of taking the Jag in for a tune up, okay? I've done an oil change, upgraded your car alarm, and changed the fuzzy dice for something a little classier."

"I don't have any fuzzy dice," Ezra was starting to wonder at what point he'd lost control. He glanced up and five pairs of eyes whipped away to stare at the ceiling, the floor, the plants or their computers.

"Metaphorically speaking, Ezra P., trust me, you had fuzzy dice."

"Fine." Ezra realised with some discomfort that he had another hour in the office, and no way to end this conversation that was not going to result in more questions. "I will see you around seven. Whatever you choose is fine. Or I could bring something home?" He lowered his voice.

"Just bring yourself," JD's voice dropped half an octave, and Ezra shivered. "And maybe some ice cream."

"What flavor?" His voice was oddly rough and he cleared his throat.

"Chocolate's my favorite," his voice got darker and Ezra felt himself start to flush with heat. He strove valiantly to ignore the grinning men around him.

"I'll be back by, ahem, seven then. With the requested dessert."

"Drive careful."

"I will."

There was an awkward moment, and then he hung up decisively. He looked up and met the ten eyes fixed on him with cool equanimity. "I have just recalled an errand that I have not, as yet, run. I shall be back momentarily." He pushed his chair back and got to his feet.

"Ice cream'll melt, Ez," Buck advised him solemnly. "Best to get it at the Seven-Eleven up the road from your place."

"He probably wants to get it from the gelato place over on Ninth. The really good one." Vin opined and the others nodded sagely.

"Yeah. You'll need a cooler and some ice if you want to do that. Chris, you've got a cooler here somewhere, haven't you?" Nathan tried really quite hard not to burst into laughter.

Chris shrugged, his eyes creased with amusement. "At the back of the equipment cupboard, I think."

"Thank you for your kind assistance, but I--" he stopped, unable to tell his intended lie to the five men grinning at him. "Fuck you all, you bastards," he said cheerfully, "I'll be back in half an hour."

"Standish?"

"Mr. Larabee?"

"Poker night, your place, tomorrow night."

"Yes, Mr. Larabee."

"And Ezra?"

"Yes, Mr. Larabee?"

"I think we'd like to meet this 'John' of yours."

* * *


	4. Temperantia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The duo experience some difficulties with the finer aspects of self control, and nearly ruin a perfectly good fish dinner.

Ezra drew a deep breath as he turned the engine off. This was all planned. They were going to discuss, like normal, rational adults, all the reasons why JD needed to tone it down a little. Why they were going to take it nice and slow.

His mouth dried.

And they were *not* going to have sex before they had talked.

He slid out of the car, squared his shoulders, picked up the cooler box, the bag containing a new mobile phone, and a bag containing three boxes of condoms and six tubes of lube - he hadn't been able to decide on a flavor or particular brand, so selected three at random, and three unscented, unflavored ones to balance them.

He glanced ruefully at his full hands. Sure. He was going to lay down the law. And hand out presents, ice cream and his new investment in prophylactics.

He was struggling with the bags to reach his keys when the door swung open.

"Hey, Ez!"

"Good evening, John," Ezra said repressively, and winced. The delighted smile on the boy's face faded at his tone, and he looked away.

"I fixed your computer. If you want I'll restore it -- I've got the whole thing backed up." John turned away and started back towards the kitchen. He could smell garlic and fish and possibly lemon, and he paused, breathing in the scent deeply. "I hope fish is okay?"

He dropped the two bags and hurried after him. The kid had his back to him, lifting the lid on a double boiler that Ezra barely remembered someone giving him one Christmas. Probably Maude. She was good at giving him gifts that he had no idea what to do with.

"John--JD..."

"If it isn't, you'll have to go out. I found a shop down the road, but it pretty much tapped me out, and I don't know how you want to handle the whole money thing."

"I'm sorry." The cooler hit the floor with an audible thump, and he set his hands gently on JD's shoulders. "I don't like the unexpected. In my job, it sometimes means the difference between life and death. I'm not used to it. I over-reacted."

"No. You were right," he contradicted, regret in his voice. "I shouldn't have done it." JD shook his head. "It was just, I wanted to get online, and then it was all so slow, even though it's pretty good for a pc, and it seemed the easiest thing in the world to clean up some of your settings."

Ezra tugged at his shoulder. "JD, I'm sorry. I told you to use the computer if you needed to."

"I'm sorry." He turned around and leaned against Ezra. Ezra sighed and tilted his face up and kissed him. JD's lips tasted of lemon and sun, and when he slid his hands into his hair the clean, harsh smell of chlorine blended with the tastes flooding his sensorium. His lips parted readily, but there was no enthusiasm, not at first, and Ezra frowned, concentrating on coaxing a response. It wasn't hard. His tongue lapped gently at JD's, and his breath shuddered at the warm pleasure of feeling soft flesh moving with his touches, pressing back. JD's teeth closed delicately on his tongue, and his tongue stroked the underside of his. He moaned into the kiss, losing his grip on the rest of the world utterly. He had no idea when JD's arms slid around him. He was just grateful for their support when his knees unexpectedly unlocked. His hand clenched at JD's waistband until it was tugged out of his grip.

A metallic chime on the floor, quickly followed by another was his first warning that his cufflinks had been removed, and when his shirt slid off his shoulders he simply moaned, pushing himself into his lover's body, not caring when it had been undone, or where his jacket had gone. He hitched himself up a little when the hard edge of the kitchen table pressed against his buttocks, settling himself with his legs open, wrapping them around JD's thighs, pulling him in close.

The kiss never broke as knowing fingers traced their way down his body, the touch barely there at all. He was breathing hard, concentrating on the light touches. His skin was suddenly so sensitive he could feel the heat from the sun as it poured through the windows; the breath of air as the breeze drifted past them. Where their bodies touched their skin slicked instantly with sweat, smoothing the glide of silken soft warmth against his body. Two little nubs puzzled him momentarily, and he ran his hands up JD's chest to find his nipples tight and hard, he rubbed his thumbs over them, then pinched none too gently until JD moaned into his mouth. He wrapped his hands around JD's back. The skin there was cool and slick with sweat, muscles moving in ripples as JD shifted his own embrace, pulling Ezra closer with one arm, dipping the other between his legs to cradle Ezra's balls, ignoring the shaft pushing eagerly at his stomach, their erections rubbing against each other with tantalizing irregularity.

Something clattered behind him, and he startled. JD moved back a fraction of an inch, and smiled into his eyes.

"Sssh, you'll like this," and slippery fingers were pressing something cold and greasy into him, the stuff smearing in his crack, melting in his hole, small lumps of it slipping down the acutely sensitive skin of his inner thighs.

"You're going to ruin the finish of the table," he murmured, short of breath and spreading his legs wider.

"If you're thinking about the finish of the table," JD gasped, grinning, "I'm not doing it right." He pulled one of Ezra's hands between them and slid it up and down his own shaft until Ezra caught the movement. "That's it. Oh god, go easy, easy..." He moaned and settled his hands behind Ezra, locking them in the small of his back. "Put me in. Inside."

Ezra looked down between them, and shifted his hips until they were lined up. He couldn't see what he was doing, but the blunt pressure as the gently pointed tip fitted itself to his anus was more than guide enough. JD gasped, "Please?" and Ezra relaxed, tilting his hips upwards, leaning hard on the cradle of JD's hands.

"Now," he said in a voice that sounded nothing like his smooth tenor, and JD rammed home in one long stroke. Ezra howled, his back arching. It hurt! He breathed through the pain, gradually coming aware of the lips nibbling at his throat, drifting up to tug at the lobe of his ear. He shuddered as JD blew in his ear softly, a cold breeze over his wettened skin. There were words in the breeze, gentling him as he relaxed into the bulk filling him. Finally he slowed his breathing almost to normal, feeling the table pressing into his lower back. JD's hands holding him securely. JD's lips laying a trail of kisses from his ear down to his mouth. He opened his eyes, not sure when he had closed them, and blinked to discover the sun pouring in. It had been so dark.

"Move." He smiled at JD's concerned look, and squeezed with his ass. JD grinned and pulled out in a stroke as slow as the first in had been fast. "You're not going to torture me, are you?" he asked as JD reversed direction, taking a full five or six seconds -- an eternity-- to sink fully into him.

"Depends," JD smiled, and Ezra groaned.

"How long, and forgive the pun, do you think you can keep this up?" he asked as JD took his own sweet time possessing him. He worked the muscles in his ass rhythmically, and JD groaned in turn.

"Not very, if you keep *that*", and he jabbed hard into Ezra's ass, "up."

"Isn't dinner going to burn?"

"Turned it down."

"I thought you were upset," Ezra accused, more entertained than annoyed at the tactic.

JD shrugged, mischief glimmering in his eyes. "I thought *you* were. I figured I could distract you."

"John, I don't-- oh my god!" JD smirked as Ezra's eyes rolled back in his head.

"I was wondering if you had one of them. Didn't find it last night." He thrust in again at the new angle, and Ezra wailed, words gone.

When he came to he was sprawled on the kitchen table, his lower legs dangling off the end. He stared up at the ceiling in bemusement, trying to place where he was. A clatter caught his attention and he lazily turned his head to one side. He found the butter dish almost touching his nose and frowned. Beyond it his bare-chested lover was doing something mysterious over the chopping board, back to Ezra. He watched, content to breath in and out. He shifted a little, and grunted softly as his asscheeks slid against each other. He frowned.

"Did you-- I don't remember--"

"Did I come? *Oh* yes." He grinned, deliberately misinterpreting Ezra's words. He shook his head at the man's anxiety. "Did I do you bareback? Nope. Not that dumb." JD smiled over his shoulder. "I'm just finishing the salad. If you want to get changed, we'll eat in about ten minutes."

"You're going to be the death of me," he replied. JD offered him a hand and he accepted it to sit up, shifting from side to side in an effort to spare his tender behind. He held onto JD's hand when the kid would have headed back to the green leaf salad he was putting together. "JD-- you don't have to seduce me to stop me being upset with you."

JD tried to hold his eyes, but he didn't miss the small flinch, and the momentary tightening of his jaw. "I'm serious. That was great, fantastic. But I'm not interested in getting laid if we're not reading off the same page, okay?"

JD quirked a half smile at him. "I-- it wasn't like that. Not really. I've been thinking about you all day, and when you walked in, I just--" His smile spread and became a real full one. "You didn't seem to mind too much."

"Brat," Ezra said affectionately, and wondered at himself. "I had this whole thing planned where we were going to talk about how we were going to manage tomorrow evening, and we'd discuss it, and I kept telling myself I wasn't going to jump you the second I walked in the door." He swallowed dryly, and his voice dropped to nearly a whisper. "I thought about you all day too." He tangled his fingers in JD's hair and pulled him in for a kiss. "You can fuck me on the kitchen table any time you like," he added hoarsely, and they kissed for a long, peaceful moment, holding each other secure.

"Food," JD broke away.

"Such self-control; I'm impressed," Ezra observed wryly, and JD grinned.

"I haven't eaten all day. You don't have much in the kitchen."

Ezra laughed. "In that case!" He wiped at his ass as he slid off the table and looked at his hand, an eyebrow lifted in comical distaste. "Okay, if you used protection, what the hell is this?"

JD looked guiltily at the butter dish, and Ezra began to laugh helplessly.

"I guess you could say I was trying to butter you up," JD sniggered, and ducked as Ezra grabbed a tea cloth and threw it at him.

"Don't abuse the cook!" JD protested. "That's for later."

"I'm going to wash up and find some clothes." He eyed JD with exaggerated wariness. "Something I don't mind losing to whatever bizarre rigors you choose to put my much-abused anatomy through the next time."

"I chucked your suit in the wash."

"What!" Ezra shrieked, and fled to the utility room.

"But I didn't know which cycle you wanted me to use, so I didn't turn it on," JD followed him out and leaned on the doorpost, his shoulders shaking with amusement as Ezra pulled the crumpled clothing out, shaking it with tender hands to ease the worst of the creases.

"The only things that go through that are the towels, bed linens, my workout gear, my riding pants, my swimming trunks and my underwear. Everything else is dry cleaned." Ezra shuddered. "Never. *Never* attempt to put wool, or silk, through this thing. It would shred this suit in a moment, ruining two thousand dollars of hand sewn artistry."

"Two thou--" JD gulped. "I'll remember that. I'm gonna go check on that fish." He disappeared into the kitchen and Ezra sighed. The kid had been poor all his life, reading between the lines of his dossier made that plain. It looked like Ezra's causal acquisitiveness was going to make the young man skittish.

Anyone who could survive on a succession of part time jobs, teaching, mucking out stables, stacking shelves, stamping books, serving in fast food restaurants while working his way through a double major, a masters and the best part of a PhD had clearly never really even considered money to be an important thing, a thing worth pursuing for itself. Money had probably made no serious impact on his worldview until he was faced with overwhelming debt after his mother's long illness and death. It was an attitude so utterly different from his own that he wondered if they would ever really have more in common than the sex.

He laid the suit down. And smiled. Well. That and the laughter. JD had made him laugh more in the last twenty four hours than he suspected he had in the last ten years.

If the secret to this improbable mirth was to have nothing in common beyond sex, he could live with that.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, he basked in the simple pleasure of unexpected happiness.

* * *


	5. Insanescere

JD was adding a bowl of salad to the table as Ezra walked back into the kitchen. Ezra pursed his lips.

"I trust that you scrubbed the dining area?"

JD smirked faintly, "Soap *and* water was used. I don't wanna be staring at your butt marks any more than you do." He waved Ezra to a chair and brought a platter holding the fresh trout, garnished and smelling utterly delicious.

Ezra's stomach rumbled.

"Help yourself," JD told him and turned back to the stove to remove a dish of new potatoes. He grimaced. "I'd offer butter with 'em, but somehow--"

Ezra looked up from serving a portion of the fish onto his plate, "Thank you. No." Their eyes met, and JD's mischievous grin became a snicker, and Ezra laughed back. He stabbed a portion of the fish and lifted it, pointing it at him. "You, sir, are indeed a troublemaker." He took a bite and his eyes closed momentarily in sheer gastronomic pleasure.

"But you like my kind of trouble," JD said cheerfully, and sat down, helping himself to large portions of everything.

"I like *this*," Ezra swallowed and opened his eyes. "This is quite extraordinary. I was expecting one of your three thousand pasta variations."

JD ducked his head a little in embarrassment. "It's the only actual recipe I know. My Mom taught me one time, when I wanted to impress this," he coughed and stopped himself with a mouthful of salad. "Anyway, tomorrow, it's pasta."

Ezra's face fell. Damn. Tomorrow. The poker game.

JD glanced up and his face tightened, "But I can learn more if you want, I mean, I can get some books or something and--"

"John!"

"Sorry." JD stared at his plate, silent.

"It's not the pasta. I love pasta. I don't care if you couldn't cook anything at all. *I* can't cook. Why should you?"

"Er, because you paid--"

"Enough!" Ezra laid his knife and fork down. "I thought I made it clear at the outset, you are not here as my servant, my slave, or anything else. You are my companion, for so long as the contract between us lasts. I would like to hope we can become friends, but that is not required of you. *Nothing* is required of you, except your own happiness." He paused, an appalled look on his face, "Please tell me you have not been intimate with me because you thought it was required of you?"

JD's face flushed scarlet. "No," he said almost inaudibly.

"Are you quite certain? You do not look entirely certain."

"No. I--" he stared fixedly at his plate, refusing to look up. "I like you. I mean, I *really* like you." He flickered a quick glance at Ezra, but didn't seem to be reassured by the blank face that looked coolly back at him. "It was kind of a bonus, but I-I," he stuttered, and Ezra held in a grin with some difficulty. Not that it was amusing, far from it, but the boy's discomfort was more reassurance than his words.

"You would have been prepared to lie with me whether I were hideous or pleasant to look upon?" He took pity on him, and JD nodded dismally. "But as I am not, in fact, hideous you have been able to forget that in effect I am paying you for this?"

"I guess."

"Good."

JD looked up, startled. "Good?"

"Indeed." He lifted a bite of fish to his mouth and popped it in. He waited until his mouth was clear, and added, "you should eat up, it won't stay hot forever." He broke open the potatoes, letting the air cool them, a small smile flickered across his lips and he rocked back onto his tailbone, letting the twinge there remind him why the butter was not available for the task. "This really is quite delicious."

"Thank you." JD ate silently, with all the enjoyment evinced by a condemned man enduring his final meal before the noose.

"I might just have a little more of --" he reached out to the fish and moved a goodly chunk onto his plate. He allowed no hint of his thoughts on his face, quite opposite to his young companion, whose every thought was telegraphed so clearly he might as well have spoken them. The boy placed his knife and fork on his plate neatly, and Ezra frowned. At least half of the food was still on his plate.

"I said good," he dabbed at his lips with the napkin, "because I should infinitely prefer that you come to forget entirely about the money, than dwell on it and modify your behaviour in accordance with some erroneous notion of what I might require or like, or need."

JD nodded with difficulty.

"I see." He drew a deep breath. "Are you finished eating?" JD nodded again, and Ezra stood. "Leave the dishes. Mrs. Flores will deal with them tomorrow."

"I don't mind--"

"Please," Ezra stopped him and held out his hand with a kind smile. "Come with me." JD looked at his hand, and back up at him, then took it reluctantly.

He followed as Ezra led him out onto the deck. "Sit down," he gestured to the edge of the deck, and JD sat obediently.

"This glorious vista is the reason I fell in love with the property," Ezra said casually, and turned JD by his shoulders to look out towards the mountains, behind which the sun was slowly drifting out sight in an orgy of reds, oranges and golds. JD let his legs dangle off the edge of the wood, and Ezra settled in behind him, smiling as he leaned back into Ezra's body. He looped his arms around JD's waist and leaned his chin on his shoulder, his legs stretched out either side of his partner's.

"It's amazing, "JD said softly.

"Do you know how much it cost me?"

JD's body tensed, and Ezra rubbed his cheek against JD's jaw. "I'm not trying to be cruel. I want to explain something to you."

"I don't know. A lot?"

"Nothing at all. A husband of my mother's, the fourth, I believe, left it to me when he passed away. He did it, he informed me, because it was always worth having beauty in one's life, no matter how ill earned." He smiled and brushed a kiss on the tense jaw. "Some years ago, my mother's present husband attempted to buy my approval with that Jaguar which you found so remarkably 'hot'." JD shivered briefly, and Ezra slid closer, his chest pressed tight against the boy's back. "It caused an inconceivable amount of difficulty for me, what FBI agent can afford a Jaguar, after all?"

"I thought you said you weren't in the F--"

"Shh. Let me finish." He waited until he was sure JD had subsided, and continued. "I am in the ATF now, yes, for reasons that we do not need to examine at this juncture. And now I have you." He tightened his grip. "Beautiful, isn't it," he gestured at the sunset. "I didn't ask for the house, you know, I merely expressed appreciation at a point when a troublesome old man wanted to annoy the hell out of his blood relatives.

"I didn't ask for you. My mother had an inconvenient five hundred thousand dollars and decided that she would dispose of it by adding something to my life that she thought was lacking. I strongly suspect I was set up. And so were you." He shifted his face to press a kiss into the nape of JD's neck, and his shoulders slumped, the tension flowing easily out of them when JD's hands wrapped tentatively around his arms. "The money would have been spent in some vastly selfish way, had it not been given to you. I will regret the spending of it only if it should come between us. I think we could become good friends. If you'll let us."

He stopped, waiting.

"I'd like us to be friends," JD's voice was rough, and he swallowed hard in sheer relief.

"I think we already are," he said quietly, and JD nodded, and they leaned against each other quietly.

Ezra found with some surprise that this whole non-sexual contact thing was astonishingly comforting, and smiled. Contrary to his every instinct, flouting every bit of training Maude had ever sought to instil in him, he was sitting on the ground, outside, with a man, in a way entirely likely to make his mother and indeed whole generations of Standishs if she were to be believed, fling their hands up in despair at the vulgarity of it all. He was actually canoodling out in his back yard with a man he hadn't even met two days ago, the two of them cuddled up closer than he'd allowed almost anyone. Worst of all, he never wanted to move.

He trailed lazy kisses down from JD's ear to his chin, then worked his way down his throat to nuzzle at the dip formed by his collarbone. One of JD's hands wrapped around his own and tugged it gently upwards to brush his lips over the back of it. It was the lightest of touches, and he shivered, unbearably touched. JD's fingers intertwined with his, and settled back to his waist.

"I don't ever want you to think I don't want you here," he added softly. "I admit, I was doubtful yesterday." He grinned and JD chuckled. "Okay, I thought I'd gone stark raving mad yesterday."

"Me too. I -- I, I was really starting to have second thoughts. And third and fourth and fifth ones too." He sighed and relaxed into Ezra's embrace. "But," he hesitated. "I've started relationships which were much less fun on flimsier pretences, it's what students do." He smiled up at the darkening sky. "We *are * having fun, aren't we?"

"I certainly am," Ezra's voice was dry. He shoved forwards a little and JD laughed.

"I guess you are enjoying it then."

"So, you're not going to worry about the money, my friend, are you?"

"Okay," he replied simply, and Ezra smiled.

"Good."

They sat in silence for a long while, watching the twilight fade into night. If this be madness, let me never grow sane, he thought in the stills of his mind, and relaxed completely.

"About tomorrow." Ezra started, tugging JD closer.

"You're having pasta and liking it," JD murmured, and turned his face to brush his lips against Ezra's.

Ezra grinned. "I am desolated to be obliged to contradict you, darlin', especially when we're making such good progress, but no, tomorrow we are having poker and my five colleagues are coming over."

"Do you want me to clear out?"

"Certainly not. Mr. Larabee as good as ordered me to ensure you were present."

"They found out, huh?"

"That's one way of putting it. Another might be that your phone voice is sufficiently loud that Mr. Larabee heard you refer to yourself as a little hausfrau, and doubtless also caught the other remarks you made."

"Oh. Oops." JD's tone was appropriately remorseful, but his shoulders were shaking gently. Ezra did not make the mistake of thinking he was crying.

"You revolting brat, next time you call, one, call my cell phone, not Mr. Larabee's, and --"

"But Ez," butter would have melted in the innocent sounding voice, "you didn't *give* me your cell number."

"Surely I." JD's head shook slowly. "Ah. An oversight I shall rectify as soon as possible."

"Right now?" JD sounded disappointed and Ezra shook his head slightly.

"No. Right now I'm enjoying this." He kissed JD's neck and smiled at the contented little sigh from his partner. "Stop distracting me, you. And thing the second, please modulate your voice a little when speaking to me on the phone, or my colleagues will be privy to far more of my private life -- and yours -- than is good for any of us."

"Okay," JD agreed equably. A while later he added, "Does that mean beer and nachos?"

"What?!"

"Poker night? I mean, you're all posh, but these guys, I'm guessing they're not so much into the haute cuisine."

"Not so as you'd notice, no." Ezra shrugged. "I usually pick something up on the way home. It's easiest for me."

"I could--"

"Not without transport." Ezra said flatly, then added slyly, "I'd hate you to put your back out carrying the groceries home." JD chuckled.

Some unspecified time later, JD's voice broke the quiet again. "Ez."

"Mmm?"

"How do you play poker?"

* * *


	6. Dominus Ludi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One plus one is? And divide by seven? Multiply by fifty-two? Now, take away the number you first thought of, and add lube...

"I see your five kisses and raise you a hand job," JD said uncertainly, looking from his cards to Ezra and back again.

"No, no, no." Ezra was exasperated. The boy was signaling his poor hand with everything he did. He even *breathed* badly. JD was looking nervously at him, and he sighed. "It is as important to consider your body language as your bet and your cards. Indeed, body language will tell you more about the game around you than almost anything short of memorizing the pack and understanding the statistical probabilities of any one card or combination of cards appearing."

The kid looked up with interest. "Probabilities?"

"Any single card has a one in fifty two chance--"

"Yes, yes, so," JD frowned briefly and stared at his hand, his lips moving silently, "this hand had a one in one million, forty-five thousand three hundred and three chance of arriving, as it was dealt, in my hand."

Ezra gaped at him.

"And if I know the value of the hole cards, the odds reduce to, um," he frowned for a longer period, his eyes glazing slightly, "Something like one in 43 for any single card pulled, reducing with each card pulled, balanced with the known cards in my hand, and the unknown cards in your hand, is, uh, about one in twenty two. Twenty two point three nine three nine six -- non integer so I might as well round it." He glanced up and caught Ezra's expression. "That's the basis of my PhD. Probabilistic learning. Heuristic learning. Probability nets. It's kind of fundamental? Did I do something wrong?" he added hesitantly, unsure what to make of Ezra's expression.

"You can calculate odds on the fly, in the millions?"

"Er. I'm kinda good at sums. It's why I'm doing a higher degree in mathematics?"

Ezra closed his jaw with a snap, and tore his eyes away from John's puzzled face. "And the odds that I am holding a hand that exceeds your own?"

John grimaced and grabbed the list written in Ezra's neat script of possible winning hands. "I'd have to think about it. A royal flush, that's easy, um, about one in sixty four million. Full house, uh..." he stared at his own cards, and then up again, "Do I have to?"

"No." Ezra's voice was hoarse and his eyes were lit with an evil glint. "Calculate the probability, based on my next discard, of my strategy winning as opposed to yours."

He dropped a six of clubs, and JD's eyes flickered. Ezra could almost see the numbers whirring.

"Um. Approaching one."

"Why?"

"I think you probably have two aces and two eights, and a face card -- maybe a king?" He pulled a sour face. "And I don't."

A beatific smile spread over Ezra's face. He laid his cards down and JD grinned.

"Cool." The dead man's hand -- eight of spades, eight of hearts, ace of hearts and ace of clubs, along with the king of spades lay neatly spread on the bed between them. JD's own cards displayed a rather sad one pair, and an assortment of utterly useless other cards.

"'Cool' does not begin to describe my feelings at this moment in time," Ezra said with a happy sigh.

"Er. Why? I *lost*, if you didn't notice." JD pointed out, getting steadily more confused.

"Indeed you did, and you now owe me," he glanced at the tally sheet, "four hundred and twenty five kisses, seven hand jobs, two blow jobs, and one kinky experiment of my choice."

"No way!" JD grabbed the sheet and frowned. "Oh. Okay. Way." He dropped the piece of paper and knelt up. "I probably ought to start working that debt off asap."

"Certainly. And I shall contemplate the happy moment when I tell my friends that you are twenty two, a graduate student who has been in college since he was fourteen, currently working on his PhD, and that you have never played poker before this very evening. Tell me, did you include the order of the previously played cards in your calculations?"

JD looked at his blandly innocent face suspiciously. "Maybe. Ezra. What are you thinking?"

"Think? Me? I am wounded, wounded I declare that you could even suggest such a thing." He swept the cards out of the way and pushed JD onto his back, and straddled him.

JD eyed him quizzically. "I ain't stupid. You're up to something."

"No." He kissed him exuberantly, then lifted his lips and laughed. "No, my dear young friend, you are most certainly not stupid." He sprawled over JD's body, and counted softly as JD dotted little kisses all over his head and neck.

"Thirty-five-- you're going to have to do something a little more, thirty six, seven, eiiiight."

JD licked lightly over where he had nibbled at Ezra's ear lobe. "You missed a couple." He stroked his hands steadily over Ezra's back learning the shape of his muscled shoulders and trim back with every stroke. He explored dips and curves, the ridges of his shoulder blades and the lines of his ribs, the sweep of his spine, and the narrow boniness of his hips. "That's at least forty-three. Forty-four. Forty-five."

"There is a certain beautiful inevitability to the outcome of tomorrow's match. If you can tally the odds for seven people, that is, as easily as for two?" Ezra asked with sudden anxiety.

JD shrugged. "It's just numbers. I can do numbers. What difference does it make?" He shivered as Ezra parted his legs with a knee. He lifted his hips off the bed, pushing up eagerly, and groaned. "Please?"

"I'll explain later," Ezra murmured. JD spread his thighs wider and Ezra lifted his head from its resting place on his shoulder and kissed him deeply. They rocked against each other easily, steadily, their breath coming shorter and shorter.

JD reached down, petting him softly, until he was rubbing a finger over Ezra's crack, trailing circles and spirals around his hole, then running his hands up, blunt nails leaving lines of fire in their wake. His lips sucked and nibbled along Ezra's, finally ending the teasing by seizing his mouth in a kiss that dissolved the world around them.

Ezra moaned and lifted one hip high enough to let his hand explore JD's groin, enclosing his shaft in a dry hand and tugging carefully. JD cried out, an edge of something less than pleasure to his tone. He grabbed for the lubricant that he had carefully tucked under the pillow earlier, shortly after suggesting retiring to bed to investigate the perils of poker. At the time he'd figured that some good old fashioned sex would cheer JD up after what he had anticipated being a desperately unequal lesson. Now he wanted to celebrate. He slicked his hand and returned to JD's cock, surrounding his shaft with his fingers and pushing and pulling with a hard grip that had JD crying out again, this time in undoubted enjoyment. And for that matter, thinking of lube reminded him.

"Darlin'?"

"Yeah?" JD breathed, his eyes almost black as he met Ezra's. He wiggled his hips, trying to encourage Ezra's slowing hand to resume its steady, mind numbing pace.

"I promised you a cell phone. It's downstairs in the other bag."

"Ez--" JD sounded bemused. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"The other bag has more lube." It sounded lame even to his ears, and he shrugged, combing his free hand through the untidy dark hair of his lover. "It's ready to be used. You just have to get it out of the bag."

"Ez, I can't take more--" He looked more focused and Ezra regretted breaking the moment, even as he speeded his hand up as it smoothed back and forth, up and down, never quite the same stroke twice, never stilling.

"Shhh." He lifted his head and looked solemnly down into those dark, disapproving eyes. "John, I want to be able to get hold of you in an emergency. I want you to be able to get hold of me if anything happens to you. Indulge me in this?"

JD sighed resignedly. "Fine."

"I'll leave you my number, and you call me as soon as you've got it set up, okay, so I have your number too." He paused thoughtfully. "I better make sure you have a couple of others too. Just in case."

He slicked a new line of lube onto two fingers and reached deeper between JD's thighs. He dragged his thumb over the tight line of flesh, searching for the open, and when he found it gently pressed inwards into JD's body. One finger, a second. Deeper.

"In case of what -- Ez!"

Harder. He kissed JD's lips, plunged deep into his mouth in time with his fingers in JD's rear. He grinned as JD's legs splayed wider, pulling his knees up to give his feet purchase on the bed to push up, letting Ezra's hand reach further into him. Ezra moaned at the wanton eagerness of the man beneath him. He felt as though he could climb mountains, win crowns of laurel, do anything, the sheer heady power of causing such abandon nearly overwhelming him.

"You are extraordinary," he whispered into JD's mouth. As though he had all the time in the world, as though the idea of fumbling, of mistakes and misjudgments was sheer impossibility, as though John was spun from gossamer, and his own touch the finest thread weaving patterns of complex and shimmering as shot shantung silk between them, he entered him. He moved carefully, gliding inwards as easily as parting waves, settling into his hot, moist depths as though he was coming home.

"Oh." John's voice held as much wonder as Ezra felt, and he blinked away the blurring of his vision, whited out from holding his eyes too wide open for too long, and moved. He hooked an elbow under each knee, pulling them up high until JD grabbed them with his own hands, opening himself utterly. Ez groaned and thrust deep, withdrew slowly, losing his mind in the grip, so soft and smooth to the touch, so firm and unyielding holding him like a glove. He cried out, and JD reached up and kissed him, pulling his face down and thrusting his tongue deep into Ezra's mouth. He accepted it as passively as his own hips moved aggressively, sodomizing his friend, his partner. *His*.

He gasped out, "John!" and wrapped a hand around the back of JD's neck, holding him to their kiss even as his hips slammed forwards again and again, eating JD's cries and whimpers, feeding him with his own nonsensical pleas and fragmented phrases, JD moving under him in perfect partnership.

"God, Ez, Ez, oh, god, babe, *please*," JD pulled his head back, his words strangled and desperate.

His hands moved jerkily on Ezra's back, one hand sliding into the short sweat darkened hair, the other tightening spasmodically on his waist. He responded with a long hard thrust, a second, a third, and a gasped sigh, his body moving faster than seemed possible, lodged as deep as he was. He groaned, something that might have had John's name in it, and came, falling limply into his lover's arms. He barely noticed as they rolled, one leg hooked high around his waist to keep him from slipping out, until JD was on top, and moving with easy grace above him, riding his half hard shaft, pulling at his own penis until he too cried out and collapsed against his lover, gasping for air.

Ezra slowly came back to himself stroking in long lazy sweeps at John's back, his other arm draped bonelessly over his back, moving in small circles on his shoulder. They were both still breathing hard, and he breathed deep, closing his eyes to enjoy the feeling of John's body splayed across his, moving with him.

"Y'okay?" he murmured, and JD turned his head, blinking sleepily.

"You used short words," he mumbled, and Ezra chuckled, shaking JD on his chest.

"You killed my vocabulary, darlin'."

"Mmmm."

"My back may never forgive me if we don't move," He slowly rolled them until they were cuddled up on their sides, John's head resting on his arm. His eyes were closed, and Ezra watched him, tracing the blue lines of veins just under his skin, and breathing slowly until he slept without really knowing he was no longer awake.

(As slowly as dust settling after a storm, as easily as water into a desert, disappearing seamlessly inside him, lost, submerged, bound together in some manner so ineffable that there could be no parting.)

* * *


	7. homo enodatus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knots are examined, tied tighter, cut and unravelled, and yet, remain knotted. But at least they have a plan for tonight. Kinda.

"Ez?"

Ezra looked at JD in the mirror as he paused shaving. "Yeah?"

"Any chance of a ride into Denver?"

Ezra turned and looked thoughtfully at him. "Could it wait till tomorrow?"

JD pulled a face. "I suppose. I guess." He wasn't really sure he *had* to go in today. It just made sense, especially as his only alternative was to lounge around panicking about the impending Poker Game of Doom, as he was starting to think of it. He could rearrange the meetings.

"If you mean to say 'Not really'," Ezra translated with a certain amount of irritation, "please just say it."

JD shrugged. "Not really," he shrugged, and rinsed and spat.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Be dressed by the time I am ready to leave the house, please." Ezra finished shaving, carefully wiping the soap from his face and gently splashing aftershave over the soft skin. He turned on his heel and stalked into the bedroom. JD stared after him in some bemusement.

"What's biting you, Mr. Sunshine," he muttered. They'd overslept a little. Not much, but enough that early morning sex hadn't happened. Maybe that was what was making Ezra the September Grinch. The screech of hangers dragging roughly over a rail set his teeth on edge, and he hastily finished up his morning routine, and headed quietly to get dressed.

His clothes were in a bedroom across the hall from Ezra's. He'd been uncertain as to where to put his stuff, and had been faintly surprised to discover it all neatly put away courtesy of Mrs. Flores when he'd gone for a change of clothes the previous afternoon. He'd expected to have to tug them out of the disarray of his suitcase. Another two cases now sat on the floor by the closet delivered by Donna LaFai's people the previous day, and sooner or later he'd have to broach the topic of the stuff currently in storage. With any luck Ezra's housekeeper wouldn't mind putting away the cases.

Which reminded him.

"Hey, Ezra?" He wandered back into Ezra's bedroom and smiled at the lean man straightening his collar.

"Yes?" Ezra was knotting a dark blue tie and didn't look around. JD shrugged mentally. He couldn't wear the other one every day even if it did match his eyes.

"Those forms turned up."

"What forms?"

"You know. *The* forms." He didn't want to say more, if he didn't get into the habit right now of not talking about it, he'd forget sometime when it was really important he didn't forget.

Ezra frowned, and then enlightenment hit. He turned abruptly and reached JD in two quick strides. "Where are they?" he asked urgently.

"By your computer. I left them there--"

Ezra hurried out of the room and down the stairs, JD followed, still wearing just a towel wrapped around his waist. "John, I will put them in my safe for the present. If you need to get at them I'll let you have the combination, or you can take your set and put them into a bank deposit box."

"Paranoid much?" JD muttered. He watched as Ezra found both folders, examined the contents briefly to make sure nothing was missing, and placed them inside the safe hidden behind a bookcase that pivoted out of place, books and all.

"I do not really want any part of the agreement between us to be discovered by anyone," Ezra said sharply, locking it down and turning to fix his eyes on JD's. "I would, on the whole, be grateful if we do not mention it at all, unless absolutely necessary."

JD frowned. "What, even here, when it's just the two of us." And he'd thought *he* was being over cautious.

Ezra sighed, his lips thinning. "I do not truly believe they would. I am sure they would never-- and yet." He shook his head. "Mr. Wilmington's specialty is surveillance. If he had the least idea that there was something improper, or illegal about how we came to meet he will leave no stone unturned in his quest for knowledge."

"Isn't he your friend?"

Ezra smiled dourly. "There is a saying that fits particularly appositely here. With friends like these--"

"But, they've gotta know you wouldn't do anything *bad*, don't they?" JD was bewildered. If they were friends they wouldn't turn Ezra in for something that wasn't even illegal, would they?

Ezra's face softened. "I would I had your faith, darlin'." JD risked an arm around Ezra's waist.

"If you want I won't say anything." He squeezed tentatively, and was rewarded with a genuine smile.

"Thank you." He hugged JD back briefly then turned him round and pushed him towards the stairs. "Up. Dressed! I will procure our breakfast."

JD ran up the stairs two at a time, relieved that he hadn't upset things after all. He ditched the towel on the floor, and rummaged through the closet. The clothes Ms LaFai had given him would be best. Boxers were on a shelf, socks too. He pulled on the neat slacks, shirt and blazer, grabbed his wallet and the package of papers that had come with the folders, and ran back downstairs, jumping the last five with a thud.

"Ez?" He wandered out to the deck through the kitchen door, "There y'are." He took the cup of coffee Ezra handed him and the piece of toast in his other hand. He dropped to the ground and set the coffee down, pulling out the sheaf of papers from under his arm and setting them down, a foot on them against the brisk breeze that gusted periodically across the yard.

"What have you got there?" Ezra asked curiously.

"The paperwork to pay off the medical bills," he lifted one batch of papers, "my student loans and debts," another sheaf, "and to re-enroll for the graduate program, if there's enough money left over." He looked up. "I think there should be."

"And thus you need to go into Denver today," Ezra responded. "I see." His face was non-committal, and JD wondered if he'd made a mistake somewhere. Again.

"I mean, if it's okay?" he hedged.

"What, to pay off your debts? I believe that was in fact the original point of these proceedings, was it not?" Ezra's tone was cool, and he was absolutely sure that Ezra was angry about something.

JD bit his lips. "I'm not trying to be awkward."

"I know." Ezra finished his coffee and stood brusquely. "I'll see you in the car in ten minutes, no more."

JD hesitated. Clearly Ezra didn't want to be followed, but equally clearly, something was wrong. If it wasn't the loans and stuff, then what was left ... except him going back to grad school? He stood, uncertainly looking after his lover. The papers rustled in the breeze and he stepped on them before any could fly away. Maybe Ez didn't want him going back for some reason. He struggled to think of a reason -- maybe he was afraid that JD would tell people about him, or about the arrangement. Like he had any friends close enough even if he hadn't given his word to keep quiet.

Maybe Ez hadn't realised that was what he wanted to do, more than anything.

What if Ez didn't want him to go back?

He reached down slowly for the papers. The top set fluttered as he held them, and he closed his eyes; he knew the horrible numbers listed there by heart. Three hundred and ninety five thousand, two hundred and forty-five dollars and eighty two cents. As though eighty two cents would make a difference to their nearly four hundred thousand dollars. The price of seventeen months of pain and misery, and a lingering death, his mother so drugged she knew no one. In her last days so ill that he could barely stand to watch as she convulsed, foaming at the mouth, over and over and over...

Another seventy five thousand on student loans. Then credit cards, bills and payments made up the last of it. Five hundred thousand dollars would leave him with somewhere in the region of seven hundred dollars to his name.

He looked back into the house. Ezra's house. Ezra's money.

_*Nothing* is required of you, except your own happiness._ Ezra's voice was sharp and definite even in his memory.

He looked back at the papers. If Ezra didn't want him to, could he be happy without finishing his degree? After Ezra had already given him so much? If the worst came to the worst, he could simply wait the year until the agreement was over. Start next September instead. He stared at the papers in his hands. He could live with that. He was pretty sure he could live with that.

"John?"

"Would it make you happier if I didn't go back to college?" he blurted out, and turned bright red. He hadn't meant to say it, dammit. He stared at his feet, trying not to look up as hard heels rapped briskly across the deck until he was staring at the toes of a pair of dark leather shoes.

"Do you want to go?"

JD nodded, his face resigned.

"Then go." His voice was curt, and he started to turn away.

"You don't want me to."

Ezra stopped and his lips narrowed. "I don't care if you go or not. I'm too busy worrying about tonight."

JD grinned with relief. "I thought I'd done something stupid or offended you or--"

"John?"

"Ez?"

He felt a hand on his chin lifting his face until he was looking straight into Ezra's clear green eyes. When he spoke his voice was gentle. "John... JD." He kissed him briefly, no more than touch of lips. "It's your life. You can do as you please."

"Are you sure? I don't want to get you into trouble or anything? I can keep quiet, I promise."

Ezra laughed out loud. "Darlin', you? Quiet? I know you'll keep our secret, but keepin' quiet into the bargain?" He wrapped his arms around JD, who stood quietly in the circle of his arms, still a little uncertain, and kissed in playful pecks at his lips until he was kissing back, both of them laughing as it turned into a game, trying to dodge kisses to noses, eyes, ears, while getting their own in.

"Bastard."

"Tease."

"Clothes horse."

"Coquet."

"Aren't those them little potato things?"

"No! You little heathen."

"Dirty Reb."

Ezra responded with a wicked grin, "*And* you like it."

JD shrugged, smiling mischievously. "*Maybe*."

"*Maybe*?"

"Well, y'know, all that sex..." He ducked out of Ezra's embrace and dodged towards the kitchen door, "Could get kinda samey after a while."

"*Samey*!" Ezra dived after him. "I'll show you samey!"

They scrambled through the house and Ezra caught him in the hallway, an armlock rapidly turning into a liplock that left JD gasping, "I don't remember that on 'So you want to be in Law Enforcement' at the careers fair."

"ATF professional secret. And now I have kissed you, you are not allowed to leave until you have been thoroughly searched for contraband and listening devices." He worried at one ear lobe in demonstration.

JD laughed. "I need something to put these into," he tucked the papers more safely under his arm.

"I have a briefcase you could temporarily make use of." Ezra disappeared into the study and appeared again a moment later with a plain black leather case in one hand. "Perhaps this would suffice?"

"That's great, Ez." JD stuffed the papers in, and headed for the door. "Come on, old man, no time for lying around making kissy face with the boyfriend."

"I'll have you know I am only seven years older than you!"

"Hey, the big three oh then this year -- old man!"

"That's the trouble with mathematicians," he grabbed one of the bags he'd brought home the day before, checked inside and handed it to JD. "Your phone, brat. Give them a pair of numbers and they're off making wild accusations based on arithmetic." He pulled JD towards the front door. "Do you even own a comb?" He smoothed the wild hair down into a smooth cap, and pushed him out the door. "Keys?"

"Check."

"Wallet?"

"Check."

"Handkerchief?"

"Get real."

"Here. Try not to give it back to me if you end up using it for anything, and I do mean *anything* at all."

"Geez. Ezra Martha Standish. One day you'll make someone a fine wife."

"You're not too old to bend over my knee."

"Promises, promises." JD slid into the low slung bucket seat, and grinned in relief at Ezra as he settled in the driver's side. Whatever had been bugging him was clearly not too important if Ez could brush it off like this.

"I seem to remember," Ezra didn't look at him at all as they pulled out of the drive onto the road into Denver. "That *someone* still owes me 'one kinky experiment'."

"Old age is doing something funny to your brain, Ez," JD said solemnly. "You're hallucinating stuff that never happened."

"Open your damn present, you ungrateful child."

"I'm grateful!" JD said indignantly, and slid a hand onto Ezra's thigh, and then up and round... "I can show you right now how grateful I am."

The car swerved.

Ezra removed JD's hand back to his own lap. "You break it, you pay for it," he warned.

JD flinched, and glanced down at the folder at his feet. "Guess I'll pay this lot off first before I start getting any more."

Ezra glanced briefly over at him, and rested a hand briefly on his leg before returning it to the steering wheel.

They sat in silence for a while, until Ezra sighed. "Tonight."

Tonight. JD Dunne and the Poker Game of Doom. JD grimaced. "What are they like?"

Ezra looked like he was thinking about it, and then sighed. "It's hard to describe them without making them sound -- " he hesitated, drawing breath several times only to let it go, unable to think of the next words.

"Odd?"

"Or dangerous, or careless, or foolhardy, or suicidally stupid or --"

"This isn't exactly comforting," he pointed out.

"Neither are they." He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Chris Larabee. Team leader. Was married, wife and son died in a house fire."

"That's awful!"

"He certainly thought so. Took him two years to emerge from the alcoholic haze. Don't offer him beer. Or anything else containing alcohol. If he wants it, he'll have it, but I'd prefer he doesn't fall off the wagon at my house if at all possible. The consequences tend to be both expensive and embarrassing, when you factor in the extremely short fuse on his temper. He doesn't like people very much either."

"Whoa, whoa, oh my god, are you talking about the Larabee that broke the Candassi weapons ring five years ago? The guy took on eight men and *won*! He dropped one man when he was barely conscious, the court cited him for extreme bravery at the grand jury," he asked excitedly. "You work with *that* Chris Larabee?"

"And acting like *that* will probably put you straight up on his 'people he loathes and avoids' list," Ezra warned him dryly.

"Oh."

"Vin Tanner is his best friend. Texan. Sharpshooter. Something of a humorist."

"You mean he tells jokes?"

"I mean he thinks it funny to get a bag of soot and a pair of sneakers to put footprints over my Jag. Someone who is under the mistaken impression that practical jokes are funny."

"Cool." JD smiled; maybe he'd be able to get along with this guy. Larabee all in all, didn't sound like someone to get along with. Or even get anywhere near. Besides which, he'd already screwed up by phoning him yesterday. His smile faded, and he turned his attention back to Ezra.

"I'm doomed." He drew a deep breath and smiled as JD looked anxiously at him. "Buck Wilmington. Think's he's quite a lover -- ever seen Les Miserables?" JD shook his head. "You'll understand what I mean if you ever do see it. Lock up your daughters. Known Larabee twenty years, pulled him out of that alcoholic puddle he was wallowing in after Sarah and Adam died."

"How old was the little boy?" JD asked quietly.

"Four."

"Poor kid."

"Buck also thinks he has a sense of humor. Yesterday this was demonstrated by a bucket of sugar water above the door back into the office. I beg your pardon?"

JD slapped a hand over his mouth and shook his head. "Nothing!" he said, somewhat muffled.

"No doubt you were exclaiming that now you understood why I came home in a different suit to the one I left in."

"I noticed the tie was different." JD said honestly, and smiled out the window.

"The tie?"

"It uh, wasn't the one I'd picked." Didn't match your eyes.

"So. Buck. Yes. Fancies himself irresistible. Which reminds me: I must take you to Recillos' Wine Bar at some point." A smirk lingered on his lips for a moment and JD wondered just what awful thing was going to happen to him, or possibly this Buck guy, at the Recillos Wine Bar.

"Josiah Sanchez. Has done a little of everything in his lifetime, and is always ready to share his wisdom." Ezra paused and shook his head. "I didn't mean that to sound quite that sarcastic. He's a good man. Almost became a priest, and I wonder sometimes, if he might yet go back to it. Team profiler and forensic psychologist."

"He sounds interesting."

"As long as you don't mind being called son." He rolled his eyes, then let his attention fix once more on the road. "Nathan Jackson. Serves as the team medic. Can get a little, ah, enthusiastic about his knives and his girlfriend, and holistic medicine. If he tries to give you anything out of a brown leather tobacco pouch refuse politely and back away."

"Why?"

"Herbal medicine. The first, last and only time I took it I ended up in hospital for a week." He glanced grimly over at JD. "By the way, I'm allergic to anything containing digtalin. Let's hope I never get heart disease."

"Ooo-kay. What about you? I know more about them now than I do about you."

"I sincerely hope not," Ezra smirked, and JD rolled his eyes.

"You know what I meant. What do you do? On the team I mean."

"Some profiling. General work."

"And?" JD watched him narrowly. The sparsity of his words suggested something was off. And that little twitch by his left ear, he'd noticed it last night when they had been playing poker, seemed to indicate that Ezra was unhappy with something. If the guy wasn't going to be straight with him, he was going to have to try to figure him out the hard way. What was it he'd called it? Tells.

"Undercover work."

He bit back his first response, which was 'cool', and frowned. "Do you enjoy it?"

"Enjoy? I am very good at it, if that is what you mean."

"Not exactly." He rubbed a sympathetic hand over Ezra's thigh above the knee. "Do they know you hate doing it?"

Ezra shrugged. "I do not hate it, it is a worthwhile and important job. I will concede it is sometimes a little tedious and time consuming, but it is worthwhile."

JD smiled a little sadly and let it drop. "Uhuh. So, when I get done with the school thing I'm going to be looking around. What's law enforcement with Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives like?"

"Time consuming, tedious and boring, interspersed with short periods of extreme terror. I suppose though, you should really know more about me, and we need to get at least a minimum of a cover story in place," Ezra said coolly.

"Sure. What are we going to tell them?"

"That's the question." Ezra frowned, and JD watched as they switched lanes smoothly despite the building traffic.

"Maybe we knew each other before my mom," he stumbled, then carried on steadily, "before my mom died."

"How long before?"

"She got ill in December of 2001. I'd finished up the taught stuff and was starting on the dissertation when she was diagnosed. I didn't drop out of the program until February 2003, but I wasn't going out much. Most of my friends kinda vanished." He shrugged, not wanting to look at the pity he feared would be lurking in Ezra's eyes. Suddenly he wished they'd not chosen to have this conversation in the car where he couldn't escape, and his companion might guess at all sorts of things that he wanted to leave unspoken.

"So maybe sometime in early 2001?"

"Okay. But only casually."

"Agreed. And after your mother passed... we met again through a mutual acquaintance and hit it off? No. It doesn't explain why you moved in so suddenly."

"Maybe we were talking online beforehand. You know, met in a chatroom, got talking, starting finding a private room to chat, talked on the phone a few times, couple of dates."

"All very low key because of your circumstances." Ezra added, nodding.

"And yours -- fed, undercover guy, not wanting to be seen in too many places with a boyfriend."

Their eyes met. "This might actually work." Ezra said out loud, and JD grinned.

"Do you actually know how to use a chat program?" JD asked doubtfully.

"Of course I do."

"You forget, I've seen your computer." JD drummed his fingers on his pants. "Okay. We were using ICQ, and stopped because of the spam. We emailed each other for a while, hmm, okay, yes, I didn't know your *work* email, because you wouldn't contact me in working hours. My school email account was jdd43 at Denver dot edu, if you can remember that. I don't suppose anyone will ever ask, but you might as well know it. You do *have* a personal email address?"

"Not a Gambling man at aol dot com, all one word, no spaces or lines or anything," he said. "You've got a good eye for detail."

JD shrugged the praise off uncomfortably. "Got to with programming."

"To summarize then. You are John Dunne, twenty two, we met in some bar or club, we don't remember where, in spring 2001. We stayed in contact off and on via ICQ, more and more in private rooms, and via email. You moved in the day before yesterday, and we have been dating for-- a month? Two?"

"A month, seriously." JD shook his head admiringly. "And you said I paid attention to the details."

Ezra shrugged. "Important aspect of staying alive."

JD froze in his seat. He slowly relaxed as Ezra continued detailing off what he knew of JD's history, not noticing his reaction. He wasn't entirely sure where that reaction was coming from, and didn't really want to examine it too closely. He rather suspected it was to do with his mother, and was going to hurt like fuck if he got around to confronting that particular twitch.

"Is that it?"

JD shook his head. "Yeah, sure. Look, you can just drop me off at the main campus. I can find my way everywhere from there." The turnoff for the university was fast approaching and Ezra indicated and took the turn.

"Do you want to meet up for lunch?"

"If you want. I don't know when I'll be free." He frowned. "I've got an appointment with the insurance people at nine, and another with the administration at two. I figured I'd leave plenty of space between them."

"Give me a call when you're ready."

"Okay." JD agreed, and watched as they glided past the engineering building. He swallowed hard. He hadn't been here for nearly a year. What was he thinking?

"I'll come and fetch you."

"Okay."

"You okay?"

He glanced at Ezra, but couldn't decipher his expression and shrugged. "Yeah. Fine."

They pulled into the visitor's parking and Ezra stopped him with a hand on his arm before he could get out of the car. "I have every faith in you," he said quietly, and lifted JD's hand to brush a kiss over his knuckles discreetly. "You've got my card."

"I have?"

Ezra grinned. "You have. Rear pocket." JD's eyebrows went up.

"Have a good day." JD nodded and slid out, then stuck his head back inside. "You too, okay? Be careful, right? No tin buckets?"

"I promise." His face was solemn, and JD nodded.

"Well. Okay then."

JD sighed as the dark Jaguar slid back into the traffic and was promptly lost among the cars. He rubbed the folder in his hands, and picked up the bag at his feet. He probably had time to grab another coffee before the meeting.

He arrived at the meeting feeling a lot more awake, although he still hadn't been able to figure out what the hell had been bugging Ezra. He was twenty minutes early, and gave his name to the receptionist with something approaching confidence. He pulled the cell phone box out of the bag and flicked through the handbook before turning it on. The phone was small, sleek and silver, and he flipped it open and shut, open and shut, irresistibly reminded of Captain Kirk. According to the handbook it had everything including internet access, vibrate function, and the ability to breathe underwater in nineteen different languages. He stood to slide his hand into his back pocket and smiled to find a small slip of card there. He carefully programmed the number in, and put the phone into his pocket, hanging on to the card, twisting and turning it over and over as he waited. Somehow the thick cream card felt warm, and --

"Mr. Dunne?"

He grabbed his bags and nearly over-balanced as he stood up too quickly. "Yes?"

"This way please." The short, plump woman smiled perfunctorily at him, and he sighed. A nobody again, he thought grimly, and his shoulders slumped as he followed her. He sat in the chair indicated and set the folder on his lap. He was about to slide the business card into his pocket, and abruptly ran his thumb over the embossed name. _I have every faith in you_...

He put the card away and smiled at her, holding out his hand. "I'm John Dunne, thank you for seeing me so quickly."

The woman looked at his hand as though it was carrying five types of smallpox, but shook it, and smiled back even though it never reached her eyes. "Marcie Byers. I understand you have some questions about your payment schedule?"

He nodded and unzipped the folder, drawing breath to speak when she carried straight on.

"Mr. Dunne, I have to say right now, that I am very sympathetic to your situation, but there really is nothing we can do to reduce the monthly payments to your account. Your mother, rest her soul, was a very poorly lady before she passed."

"I--"

She held up a hand, "Now, I know it's hard to hear, but really, perhaps the time has come to re-schedule your education until it is more economically viable, and--"

"Ms. Byers?" He raised a hand tentatively, and she paused. He strongly suspected from her confused and slightly nervous smile that he had interrupted a well rehearsed spiel and she might never find her place again. Maybe that would be for the best.

"Yes?" She leaned forward, smiling blandly. Odd how much sexier bland was on Ezra, he thought randomly, and suppressed his grin.

"I don't want to reduce my payments."

"You don't?"

"I don't."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm quite sure."

"But, then," she looked helplessly at her computer, and then back at him, "what do you want?"

"I want to pay it off."

"Well, of course. Oh! You want to increase the payments?"

"Er. Sort of. I want to pay it off. Completely."

"We can arrange something based on your new income and--you what?" Her veneer of professional expertise crashed and burned.

"I want to pay it off. The whole sum. A distant cousin left me a small inheritance, and I think I have enough to clear the whole thing."

"You want to pay off the capital?"

"Yes."

"All of it?"

"*Yes*."

"Now?"

"*Yes*." JD wondered if she was going to actually get any more stressed, when her fingers started stuttering across the keyboard, apparently independently of the rest of her body.

"You want to pay off the full, lump sum?"

JD sighed. It was just as well his next appointment wasn't for another four and a half hours.

"That's correct."

"Well then." She swung around to look at her computer screen. "That'll be two hundred and thirty five thousand, eight hundred and thirty seven dollars. And sixteen cents."

"Excuse me?" He had been braced for the full enormity of the nearly four hundred thousand that his statement listed, and he was pretty sure it hadn't been mentioned.

"Two hundred and thirty five thousand, eight hundred and thirty seven dollars. And sixteen cents." And her tone of voice added, are you deaf or something?, with an option on, bet you can't really afford that much, now can you?

"That's not quite the amount I was--"

"Payment at this stage, Mr. Dunne, allowing for early repayment indemnity, the sum paid off so far, leaves the capital amount of two hundred--"

"Yes, okay, I get it, but--" he stumbled helplessly before saying, "That's not enough."

"You do not have enough?" Her voice dripped oily sympathy. "We can arrange for a partial repayment of the capital and--"

"No!" He interrupted, quite loudly he suspected because she glared at him. "No. God. Um. I was expecting the repayment amount to be more."

"More?"

"More." They stared at each other, both clearly with the lowest possible estimation of the other's mental capacity.

"You do realise, Mr. Dunne," she asked cautiously, dawning hope on her face, "that early repayment means you do not have to pay the full thirty years of interest?"

"No interest?"

"No."

"No interest payments at all?" he asked, stunned. And he called himself a mathematician. Good god. Simple interest over thirty years, at fifteen percent.

"None," she said loudly and clearly, exaggerating the movement of her lips as though he were deaf.

"Good God," he said blankly. "Just two hundred thousand?"

"And thirty five thousand, eight hundred and thirty seven dollars. And sixteen cents."

"And sixteen cents. Mustn't forget that sixteen cents," he laughed giddily. "Will you take a check?"

She would, it transpired, rather take a bank transfer. An hour and a half later he left the building feeling oddly light, and still somewhat giddy.

Numbers danced madly through his head. Seventy five and two hundred and thirty five, and sundries, and re-enrolment, and he'd have nearly a hundred and fifty thousand dollars left. A hundred and fifty thousand dollars. He said it very quietly, to see how it sounded. "A hundred and fifty thousand dollars. One. Hundred. And fifty. Thousand. Dollars. Hundred an' fifty thou. One hundred and fifty fucking thousand oh my god count 'em and weep dollars."

Maybe the student loan repayments wouldn't have any interest on them either. Good God. He sat abruptly on the curb, forcing several people to detour around him abruptly and scowl at him. He paid no attention. He pulled out his phone (his phone! He could pay Ez back for the phone. And the phone calls! He hadn't even dared think about paying for the phone calls!), and stared at it for a long moment before carefully pressing speed dial two.

"Standish?"

"It's me. I. That is JD. John."

"Are you all right?" Ezra's voice sounded strange, but he didn't really pay attention. Pay.

"Ez?"

"Yes?"

"I paid it off."

"Good boy."

"No. You don't understand. I paid it off, and there wasn't any interest."

"None?" He could hear the dawning grin in Ezra's voice, and he pressed the phone tighter to his ear, his grin making his cheek muscles ache.

"This is starting to sound like the conversation I just had with the repayments woman. She thought I was a complete 'tard."

"None at all?"

JD laughed out loud from pure happiness. From the mischief in Ezra's voice as he made a good guess at how JD had reacted. The freedom from those huge, horrible debts. "God, Ezra P. I'm so happy I think I could die right now."

"Don't you dare, darlin'. And you call yourself a mathematician? I think this calls for a celebratory lunch at the very least."

"Ez, I'm going to have a hundred and fifty thousand dollars left after everything," he whispered.

"That's great, kid," he said flatly, and JD frowned. "What are you goin' to do now?"

Something was wrong. "I don't know. Pay for lunch? Are you okay?"

Ezra laughed, and it was all right again. "I believe I am just fine, Mr. Dunne. I may even be able to think of one or two things for you to spend your windfall on. When do you want to meet?"

"Now? Whenever you want! I'm clear till two, so whenever you're free is good. Call me!" he added, laughing with sheer happiness.

"I'll do that," Ezra's voice sounded almost stilted, formal. Not at all the man who had pretty much played kiss chase in the house with him this morning.

"You sure you're okay, Ez?" JD asked, worried. "Did I call at a bad time? I'm sorry, babe, I'll go now."

"I'm fine," Ezra snapped, and then sighed, "I'm sorry. I'm a little stressed by some stuff going on."

"People listening, huh? You can tell me about it at lunch. Look, I'm gonna go see if I can enroll again. You'll call, right?"

"I promise."

"Take care, babe."

"You too." There was a pause as though he'd meant to say something else, and then he said quietly, "You have fun, darlin'."

JD's face lit up, "I'll have more when you're here. Seeya later." The phone clicked off in his ear, and he pulled it away, still wondering what was wrong with Ezra.

\----------------------------------------------------

"That your young man?" Josiah leaned on the back of Ezra's seat and rumbled almost directly into his ear. "John?"

Ezra shot an irritated look, and gestured curtly at the pile of paperwork on the conference room table in front of them. "I thought I was supposed to be keeping my mind on the Lasater case?"

"You've been distracted all morning. Maybe you'd feel better with someone to talk to?"

Ezra shook his head. "The property listing for the twelfth of March has some inconsistencies with--"

"Inviting someone to move in with you is a big step."

Ezra ignored him. "--with the listing that was obtained in the audit of the nineteenth."

"When did you decide to ask him?"

"A little while ago. Now, it looks as though there is some confusion over whether the inventory listing of 'brandy, case of' is in fact the same as the 'Benedictine, eighty three bottles of'. An egregious error if you ask me, indicating either the sheer lack of culture on the part of the auditors, or culpable false reporting, on the worst interpretation. Either way, they seem to have acquired--"

"Have you been seeing each other long? You never mentioned a boyfriend." He hesitated and settled back into his seat, leaning forward on both elbows, watching Ezra's carefully controlled mask intently. "I hope it wasn't because you thought we wouldn't accept him. I hope you know that it makes no difference to us."

Ezra smiled. A small, unenthusiastic grimace. "Certainly. Lasater appears to have acquired at the very least, eight cases of liquor without benefit of the revenue process."

"Ezra, son," Josiah stopped him. He sighed and eyed him sympathetically. "Getting cold feet?"

Ezra's head snapped round. "No," he said shortly. He closed his lips to the point that they became thin white lines. "I really don't see it's any of your business," he added, in as polite yet frigid a tone as he could muster.

"Ezra, it's obvious something's wrong. Now, you can either just be rude, and have a terrible evening when it doesn't go away, or maybe try and sort it out."

Standish dropped his head into his hands. "Do you have no concept of the term 'private life'?"

"If you want an ear, I'm right here."

Ezra grimaced, and Josiah held his breath.

"I -- no. Really. I am not turning a briefing session on the misappropriations of Skyane Lasater into an encounter group."

Damn. Time for the big guns. "If you can't straighten up, Standish, Larabee's going to have to put you on desk duty." Ezra looked almost relieved for a flicker of a moment, and Josiah frowned. Hmmm.

"Is it work?"

"Apparently not," Ezra slapped the file closed and pushed the chair back with an angry hand. "My personal life is just that, personal. I'll thank you to stay out of it."

"Is it Maude?"

Ezra laughed harshly. "No." He laughed again. "Not Mother." He walked to the window and stared down the twenty three stories to the ground. "I, I merely find that I am somewhat unprepared for the difference John has made. Is making. In my life."

"Ah," Josiah smiled, trying not to let his amusement into his voice. Judging by the twitch in Standish's back, he hadn't succeeded. "Tell me about him."

Ezra shrugged. "He's twenty two. He's a graduate student at Denver State. He --" he sighed.

"What's he like?"

"Trouble. Dark haired, dark eyed, trouble." He could hear the affection in Ezra's voice and relaxed slightly. At least there probably wasn't any kind of coercion going on there.

The team had discussed the oddity of the ultra-private, utterly discreet Ezra Standish suddenly moving a boyfriend in the previous evening, after he had fled home with his ice-cream and a couple of bags that he had steadfastly refused to allow Buck to look inside. None of them had even known he was dating, and to make it more suspicious, Vin had been pretty sure he'd said he hadn't had a date in months less than two weeks ago.

"Trouble? What sort of trouble?" Josiah injected a note of professional concern into his tone to see what would happen.

"He managed to lock himself out yesterday. Then he lost the details I'd given him, couldn't remember find the phone numbers or email addresses." Ezra laughed. "He got sunburnt when he was swimming, and got aftersun *every*where. I don't think my couch is ever going to be the same again."

"Your leather couch?" Josiah asked, slightly incredulous at Ezra's insouciance. "The couch you made us wash down and work leather food into when we dropped a plate of nachos on it?"

He could make out Ezra's smile reflected in the window as it turned ever so faintly smug, and grinned as red climbed the back of his neck. Ah. The couch really *wasn't* ever going to be the same again.

"He can only cook one meal, and three thousand pasta variations," he paused to smile again, and Josiah smiled too as Ezra stopped, clearly remembering something that filled his eyes with tenderness.

"You're in love with him," Josiah concluded and Ezra froze.

"No!" He shook his head. "Absolutely out of the question."

"Why?"

"Because it is, do you understand?" He scowled fiercely at the glass, and Josiah grinned.

"Chris has been giving you pointers on that glare. Careful of any birds that may fly past. Would be a crime to kill them just for flying across your line of sight." he chuckled. He moved around the table to perch on it, sitting just behind Ezra.

"Do you think it bothers us?" he gestured vaguely to indicate the rest of the team. "Why should it? We've known you for a couple of years now, Ezra. We're not going to suddenly be bothered by you." He thought about that for a moment, "Well, not more bothered than we normally are." He stood and reached out to rest a hand lightly on Ezra's shoulder. "You don't have to hide from *us*. You should know that by now."

Ezra looked away, and Josiah thought he caught a hint of shame on his face. "I-- you. I can't."

"Why not, son?"

"It's just impossible," he said flatly.

"Is there something wrong with him, is that it? Is he in trouble with the law? Or in debt, or--" He'd quietly emailed Vin the surname as soon as he'd heard Ezra use it. By now the guys had hopefully been able to run it for as much information as possible, but if there was something, and Ezra knew it, it might explain his mood today -- and his secretiveness. Although when had Ezra been anything except secretive?

Unexpectedly Ezra smiled, though it was a look that held some private amusement that Josiah knew Ezra would never share. "He's no criminal. He might have once been involved in a hit and run driveby ice cream theft," and judging by the wicked grin on Ezra's face, there was no crime involved, "But I'm sure he was very sorry afterwards."

"I'm sure he was," Josiah started laughing, and Ezra bit his lip in uncharacteristic hesitation, and then ruefully joined in.

Ezra walked back to the desk and sat down with a sigh. He rested his head in his hands and said helplessly, "When did my life go completely out of my control?"

"I don't know, son. When you met John?"

"You have no idea," he said in heartfelt tones. He shook his head again. "It's like having a, a, I don't know, a gadfly, and I have to explain myself, and I don't have any *privacy*, or *quiet*, and--"

"Do you want him to go?" Josiah asked with mild curiosity.

"Go?" He sounded as though the idea had never even crossed his mind. "Good Lord, no. Of course not."

"Then it sounds like you're just getting used to each other." Josiah smiled faintly. "You might want to agree some house rules, discuss how you're feeling. I'm sure he's having some of the same difficulties settling in, and don't forget to make some time for yourselves..."

"House rules! Discuss! If I could just manage to have a single, solitary conversation with him that didn't end up with us--" he stopped dead and the suave, ice cool, unflappable, unreadable ATF agent blushed scarlet.

"Ah." Josiah was truly proud that he did not laugh out loud. He also wondered if he had herniated himself. "The honeymoon period."

"Lasater," Ezra said firmly, and Josiah was merciful, and turned to the files.

"If you want to go for lunch at twelve, I'll cover here," he offered, and when Ezra mumbled his thanks, looked down at the files with a small smile on his face. This kid was keeping Ezra happy, and off balance, and if he was any judge, very contented with his life, even if he didn't know what do to with it. It was about time, he thought to himself, and let it go. He'd tell the guys later.

\----------------------------------

JD bounced from one foot to the other, looking up and down the road for the black Jag. Ez had called less than five minutes ago to say he was on his way, and had booked them a table.

He stilled. Restaurants where you had to book ahead weren't his normal kind of eatery. What if he fucked up and did something dumb or embarrassing or-- "Ez!"

A big grin spread over his face as the car stopped. It was such a cool car. The window wound down and Ezra was smiling at him, and he wasn't entirely sure but he thought he'd slid over the hood and through the window into his seat. He was absolutely sure about the kiss though.

"Hey, Ez," he said as he pulled back, looking into glazed green eyes, "How was your morning?"

"Ah, fine." For a moment JD thought he was going to blank him, and then a small smile grew on his lips, and he touched JD's face with gentle fingers. "Better for seeing you, darlin'." He looked faintly startled at himself and JD wondered if he didn't mean it, or didn't mean to say it. Either way. He frowned. He thought way too much.

"Where are we going for lunch?"

"Recillos' Wine Bar."

"You said that name before, didn't you?" JD tried to place why it seemed familiar.

Ezra smiled slowly. "I believe I did," he said enigmatically, and refused to say another word on the bar. "Were your endeavors successful?"

"Huh? Oh, you mean did I enroll." JD grinned hugely, "I'm back in. And I'm in good standing because I dropped out cos of my mom, so I don't have to do-over, but Professor Sanders said I ought to drop by some of his sessions because there's been some good stuff coming up on probability nets and quantum computing, and it sounds *so* cool, I really want to get started, I've got some reading, you know it took longer to get my library card than it did to enroll as a student. Unbelievable."

"Indeed."

"And you know what? I saw four people I knew, and they all cut me completely. Ya shoulda seen their faces when you pulled up." He laughed. "They're gonna be saying I was in rehab and you're my supplier by the time I get back there." He laughed again. "God, I--" he stopped dead and reddened. "So I've got a hundred and fifty thousand plus or minus. Questions, comments, anybody, anybody...Bueller?" He flickered a sideways glance at Ezra who was driving calmly, his eyes on the road and a tic pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Hey, are you laughing at me?"

"Absolutely not," Ezra said with a completely straight face.

"Liar," JD said cheerfully. "If you weren't driving I'd kiss you."

"I won't be driving forever."

"I guess I'll save it for later then."

"We're here." He pulled into a tiny entranceway and slid the car neatly into an impossibly small parking space. JD went to open the door and Ezra stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"I should warn you, some of my colleagues may show up here. They often stop by after work, usually in the evenings. I am hoping that as they do not know we are here, and lunch break is only, strictly speaking, an hour, and they rarely take that, that we will be safe."

"Are they going to be okay with, you know. Us." He gestured vaguely in a circle.

Ezra's face was wry. "I believe that they will be fine. However, their acceptance is often more perilous than their indifference." He paused and thought about it. "Is *always* more dangerous than their indifference, and very nearly as hazardous as their enmity."

"I'm gonna like these guys, aren't I?" He hated how insecure that made him sound, but Ezra's hand slid into his and squeezed.

"I don't know, darlin'. I hope so, but I do not care to predict the vagaries of personal interaction. I have not proved the expert that I thought myself to be."

"Do, do you mean us?" JD asked warily. "Because if y'are, I've gotta say your instincts are pretty damn good."

"Excuse me?"

"Well," he opened the car door, "You like *me*, don't you?" He slid out hastily enough that he didn't have to see his reaction. He was pretty sure it was okay. But sometimes he got people wrong.

"Idiot child," Ezra said softly, and slid out of the car himself. He looked around. There was no one in sight, and he pulled JD around the car towards him and snatched a quick kiss. "I guess you're okay," he drawled and walked into the bar, ignoring the spluttering sounds behind him.

"Señor Standish!" Inez smiled at him from behind the bar, and looked towards the door. "Are the others also coming?"

"No, just myself and a lunch companion."

Inez's face brightened into a knowing smile, "You have brought a friend! You must introduce us."

Ezra felt like crossing his eyes or some other equally childish display, but simply said, "John?" The boy came forwards, looking around with interest at the dark Latin style bar. "Inez, may I present to you my good friend John Dunne. John, Ms Inez Recillos."

"Señor Dunne," Inez held out a hand with a smile and the two shook over the counter.

"Miss Recillos," and John added shyly, "It's just JD, please, Miss Recillos, John isn't really me." He smiled at Ezra to take the sting out of his words, but Ezra wondered.

"And I am Inez, to my friends. I am sure we shall be friends, JD," she reached under the counter and handed them each a menu. "Please, take a seat. Señor Standish, I will bring you the wine menu--"

"No. I have to be in work, and John, JD has a number of things to do this afternoon. Mineral water for both of us, please." He glanced at John who merely nodded in acquiescence.

They peered at the menus in near silence, and when Inez returned, ordered a selection of tapas.

"Do you really mind 'John'?" Ezra asked quietly.

JD looked up, startled. "Not when you say it. I'm kinda getting used to it." He ducked his head. "I think I'd prefer everyone else to stick to JD though."

Ezra's breath caught, too noiselessly to be a gasp. 'John' was just for him. "I, why, thank you." He smiled slowly, and met John's eyes. He wondered if the boy saw in his face the kind of breathless wonder and excitement that he saw in his. He hoped not. His reputation as an undercover operative would be shot if anyone knew that with one look from a pair of merry hazel eyes he was lost.

He stared into John's eyes, not really noticing as they grew worried. It really had been just one look. Had he known, when he uttered those damnably callous words, 'I'll take one of those', that he was going to change his life so significantly that in two days he could barely recognize himself? Or had he simply had the luck of the gods on his side.

"Ez, you okay?"

"I wish you would not call me Ez, darlin'," he murmured, hypnotized by John's face.

"What do you want me to call you?" John asked pragmatically, and Ezra blinked.

"Your food, señores," Inez laid plate after plate on the table. "Enjoy!"

"I--I haven't really thought about it," he admitted. "Thank you Inez."

John's mouth quirked up in a half smile. "Let me know, okay, babe," he said in soft tones that carried no further than their little booth.

"Very well." Was it possible Josiah was right? He looked thoughtfully at the young man sitting across from him, tucking into some sort of eggplant fritter.

"This stuff is good, Ez, ra," he added belatedly. "Sorry."

Ezra sighed. "I think I may come to prefer Ez to *that* heinous appellation."

John nodded, then started laughing. He laughed so hard he began coughing, and Ezra poured a glass of water, and waved away Inez.

"John, John, are you all right?" He pushed the water up close and stepped around the booth to sit next to him. He patted tentatively at his back, gentling to a rubbing motion as John's coughing fit subsided. "What brought that on?"

"Nothing," John looked at him, mischief in his eyes and wiped away the tears from his face.

"John."

"Trust me, you don't want to know."

Ezra looked at him thoughtfully, then inclined his head. "I believe you."

"Besides, pop culture reference. It wouldn't've meant anything to you anyway." He chuckled again, and Ezra chose to not hear the muttered, "Ez-ra! Princess of Power!"

"I like this better," John said after they had been eating for a little while. He leaned against Ezra's side, worming his arm around his waist. "Mmm." He picked up an as yet unidentified piece of tapas, dipped it in what Ezra suspected to be jalapeno jelly and held it up to Ezra's lips. "'S good. Try it."

Ezra smiled suddenly, and delicately took the food from John's fingers, licking lightly at the tips of them before letting go and tasting the food. John's arm tightened around his waist. "That was good, here." He dipped some himself and offered it. John took it, biting very gently at his fingers. He swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably. His pants were abruptly too tight and an acute consciousness that the bar was not entirely empty did nothing to ease his state of mind.

"Ez?"

"John?"

"Ez." He stopped and looked around them as though seeing the place for the first time. "Ez, what's going to happen?"

"Happen? You will finish the tapas, and we will depart for our respective commitments."

"No. I meant." He stopped again, and his hand slipped from resting on Ezra's hip, discreetly under his jacket, to his waistband, then inside, fingers working until he found skin, and then settling, rubbing little circles on Ezra's lower back. "Here, eat this." He pushed another piece of tapas, something chicken and salsa related he thought, at Ezra's mouth. He obediently opened and ate.

"I meant, I dunno. What's going to happen tonight? What's going to happen after the year is up."

"Six months."

"Year."

"I was certain it was only--"

"It's a year. I'm sure." John looked grim. "I did make sure of what I was getting into before I signed up."

Ezra nodded. "What, in short, is going to become of 'us'? Is that what is troubling you?"

"I guess."

"Isn't it a little soon to--"

"I'm sorry."

"No." Ezra sighed and stared at the debris of the tapas. "It is a valid question. One which I myself have been wrestling with."

"Is that what's got you all twitchy?" John asked.

Ezra frowned. "I have not been 'twitchy'."

John grinned. "Sure you have. Twitch, twitch, twitch." With each word he drove his hand further into Ezra's pants until his fingers found his crack and pressed up on the last word.

Ezra jerked and became very still. "John," he said softly. "Please."

John pressed a careful finger inside him and he swallowed hard, shifting to allow him easier access.

"Shhh."

He whimpered as John's finger slid deep into him despite the awkward angle and the limiting confines of his pants. A hand moved at his crotch, and he glanced down to see the flicker of a pale hand undoing buttons under the table. He twisted slightly, pulling his jacket forward to conceal John's dangerously intoxicating hands. One of which now grasped his thickening shaft and eased it out of the slit of his boxers.

"Oh dear God," he breathed, and the moan in his throat was choked off almost before it had a chance to escape.

John turned in his seat and blew over Ezra's ear, licked it lightly, and blew again. Heat coiled in the pit of his stomach, and deep pleasure jolted his body as John's fingers worked in and out of his ass, stretching him, twisting and teasing against his sensitive anus. He let his head fall back against the cushioned back of the booth, deeply grateful for the support and the concealing dark of the dim bar. Cool air brushed over his cock, and then John's hand, slick with something gripped him, working him with strong, rough strokes that drove him over the edge in mere seconds. Instinctively he splayed his legs wide, trapping John's fingers under him, but letting his semen splatter harmlessly on the underside of the table, the floor and John's fingers.

A tiny cry escaped him, and he turned his head to bury it in John's neck, kissing and biting his way under the man's collar. He heard something like licking, and opened his eyes to see John lapping at his fingers, cleaning his come off.

"Let go of my fingers, babe," John murmured, tugging at his asshole, and Ezra unclamped the muscles that had tightened with his orgasm. John's fingers slid out, caressing him as they left him.

"Empty," he whispered involuntarily, and John lifted his face to kiss him softly, returning to taste his lips again and again.

"Me too, babe," John whispered back with a last kiss, and settled his hand in the small of Ezra's back. He wiped his other hand on a napkin and carefully tucked his cock away, buttoning him up and leaving him with a little pat that sent a frisson through his lethargic body.

"You are a bad influence," he murmured, and smiled. "A bad, bad influence."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," John grinned at him, and Ezra simply took in the dark hazel eyes, and the young face that seemed to grow more necessary to him every time he looked at it.

"Have you boys finished?" Inez appeared, a small smile on her face. They looked at her startled until she nodded at the emptied plates. "The food, señores. How was it?"

"Very good," Ezra said swiftly, "As ever, quite excellent."

"Yeah," John said with a smile. "Delicious."

* * *


	8. Arma virumque cano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JD Dunne and the Poker Game of Doom. Or, Foot in Mouth Syndrome: common causes and cures.

Ezra pulled in and nearly forgot to come to a complete standstill when he saw what was leaning against the outside wall of the garage. He had to brake hard as the house wall loomed in front of him, and winced as the hood gently kissed the bricks before rolling back. John had said he'd found his own transport, but *this*? He reached for the bags of groceries in the back of the car then paused to stare at the scraped and scratched motorcycle.

"You bought *that*?" he muttered, "You're seriously telling me that with one and a half hundred thousand dollars *that's* the toy you pick to play with?" He shook his head in bemusement. The boy was clearly going to have to be educated on the finer things in life. And he probably ought to suggest that the kid invest some of it instead of shelling out what undoubtedly had been too much money on a wreck. He grappled with the half dozen heavy bags of beers and snacks, hauling them out of the back seat and slamming the door.

He dumped them by the front door and walked back to check the car's paintwork, peering with minute attention at the hood from two or three inches away, tilting and twisting his head to spot any scratches on the rich black sheen. Finally satisfied that it was not in fact damaged he headed back to the house, juggling bags and keys, and elbowed the door open with some difficulty.

A blast of sound hit his ears and he winced. The bombastic music and repetitive stutter of guns sounded almost like a war film, but the dialogue was even more stilted and unimaginative than the usual run. The booms and whines of bombs shook the house, the biggest rumblings settling in his ribcage and physically shaking him.

"Saving Private Dunne," he muttered darkly and yelled, "John? JD!" No one came to help. John, presuming it was John that was the cause of the racket that had taken over his quiet abode, almost certainly could not even hear him. He dragged the bags into the kitchen and abandoned them, following his ears to the source of the sound.

"Good Lord."

His living room had been transformed from something elegant in minimalist creams and beiges with an occasional accent of deep red to add warmth and interest, to some mad scientist's vision of death trap by wire. Cables stretched everywhere, and in the middle of it all, like a long legged, dark haired spider in its web, lay JD. Nothing would persuade him that the boy sprawled out on his stomach, feet waving in the air, and a death grip on some enormous joystick, pounding on buttons and dragging it back and forth, swearing and cheering the improbably proportioned figures on the screen on by turns, was anything other than 'JD', aged perhaps, at a stretch, eight.

"JD?"

A spaceship blew up and the screen whirled dizzyingly as JD performed a victory roll, whooping with joy.

"Eat my dust, space scum!"

Ezra cleared his throat, and JD twisted his neck in an alarming fashion. "Oh, hey Ez, you're back!" The screen froze and he pulled his knees up under him. In the same move he knelt up, grabbed Ezra's tie and pulled him down to his lips. Ezra revised the age back up to twenty-two, with an option on 'more experienced than is good for my sanity or self-control.'.

"Missed ya." He kissed him again. "Didya see the wheels? Way cool, huh?" Ezra gave up and knelt, and gave back as good as he got. He was just considering the possibility of making it three for three and simply tumbling JD to the floor and (wires or no wires) taking him where he lay when a raucous whoop filled the room.

"Gooooooo Standish!" Buck cheered. Ezra rocketed to his feet, hand halfway to his gun, pushing JD to the ground behind him before he recognised the man's voice through the haze of blinding want.

"Goddammit, Wilmington," he blazed uncharacteristically, and Buck stepped back his hands in the air.

"No harm, no foul. Just thought we'd drop by a little early."

"The agreed time was eight," Ezra snapped.

"Hey, sorry guys, I'll pick this all up in a minute." JD scooped the cables and joystick together and bundled them all on top of Ezra's television, then forced the television cabinet door shut. "Tada!" He turned round and grinned at Ezra. "No fuss, no muss."

"Brat." Ezra shook his head, smiling at him. JD was barefoot. The remains of what he suspected had been the tub of extremely expensive chocolate ice cream were lingering around his mouth, and his hair was lying every which way. He looked edible.

"Jesus Christ, Standish, what is he, twelve!" Buck blurted, staring.

"Twenty-two, actually," JD said mildly. He wrapped his hand around Ezra's wrist as he tensed.

"Yeah, and I'm the pope's maiden aunt," Buck jeered.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," JD said, straight faced, and Ezra grinned. He heard muffled snickers and looked at the door to discover the rest of his team mates cautiously lurking by the entrance. He shook his head. One thing at a time.

"JD Dunne, Buck Wilmington," he introduced them, and Buck frowned.

"This is John?" Ezra wondered who else Buck thought he was going to be embracing after the discussions and taunts of the last two days.

"JD, if you don't mind," JD said firmly. Ezra's grin softened, although he kept his eyes on the man in front of him, and the little covey of colleagues lurking in the doorway in a vain attempt at looking inconspicuous and nonchalant.

"This is the guy you went twice around Denver looking for the right ice cream for?" Buck's voice was incredulous.

"Really?" JD asked Ezra with interest, and he shook his head.

"Just down to the gelato place on Ninth."

"*Really*?" JD threw a guilty look at the waste paper bin and wiped nervously at his mouth.

"You missed some," Ezra told him dryly, and his face reddened.

"Hey, I thought you guys were coming later. Or I'd'a been you know, uh--"

"Dressed?" Ezra asked with acid amusement.

JD leaned forward and whispered in Ezra's ear, "It could have been worse. I *was* thinking about going for a repeat of last night. Y'know, with the coffee table instead of the kitchen table? Maybe getting ready for you first..."

Ezra's cheekbones stained with red, but he made no other indication of how attractive and in the circumstances, terrifying that particular notion was.

They were both startled when Buck's voice broke in. "No way is that kid legal! Christ, Ez, what the hell were you thinking?" He looked JD up and down, and the kid flushed with embarrassment and stepped closer to Ezra. "Never mind, I can guess what you were thinking *with*." He gave Ezra a contemptuous look. "How the hell did you think we could condone--"

John was shrinking into himself next to him, and Ezra was abruptly furious. He interrupted him before the man could say anything worse than he already had. "I cannot tell you how delighted I am by your obliging assessment of my character and morals, Mr. Wilmington. I am amazed you can bear to be in a room with a man like me. Allow me to rectify that. The door is behind you," he finished coolly, then spoiled it by adding, "Do you truly believe that I would be capable of --" he stopped, disgusted.

"No -- I, but dammit, Ezra, *look* at him."

There was stony silence as all eyes fixed on JD, who slipped his hand into Ezra's, which gripped back just as fiercely.

JD gritted his teeth. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened. He'd hoped that he looked old enough for it not to happen again, but clearly he'd been wrong. He scowled. The comments of the guests at Donna's auction two days ago should have warned him. Ezra was his main concern right now. The man's death grip on his hand was cutting off circulation, and was worrying him.

"Ignore them, babe," JD murmured. then turned to the four other men standing uncomfortably at the door. "Look, I really am twenty-two," JD said quietly to the four behind Wilmington, ignoring the big man completely. "If you don't believe me, my wallet's in my pocket. I'm a grad student at Denver State. I've been there for nearly seven years, until my mother died."

"I heard about that," Nathan said sympathetically, "I'm sorry for your loss. Ezra said it was cancer?"

JD shrugged. "Yeah." He glanced around the room, slid his free hand into his pocket and tossed his wallet onto the coffee table. "Look, you guys, you know, make your minds up or whatever. Ez, I need your help in the kitchen." He pulled on Ezra's hand until he followed him through the silently parting men and out of the room.

The silence grew, until Buck stalked over to pick up the kid's wallet and opened it. He pulled out a driver's licence, then a student ID.

"Well?" He didn't look up to meet Larabee's eyes.

"September eighteen, nineteen eighty one." He slid both items back and laid the battered leather back on the table. "Damn."

"One day, you'll think before opening your mouth, won't you, Buck."

"The kid doesn't look a day over fifteen, come on now, does he?"

"Ezra told ya he was old enough. You pretty much told him he was a liar, and a bunch of other things that I wouldn't have taken half as well as Ez did," Tanner observed coldly.

"I thought better of you, Buck," Josiah said, disappointed. "I believe you owe both young men an apology. John is important to our solitary friend. I think we should at least extend them the courtesy that nearly two years of friendship are due."

Buck reddened, his eyes still on the wallet. "I know. He just -- he looks so damned young!" He shook his head and looked up. "I was just -- I wasn't expecting-- oh, hell, you know me. I open my mouth and any old shit comes out."

"Gonna do that once too often one day, Buck," Tanner said quietly. "Ez ain't gonna just sit and take that kinda thing. No man could."

"You pretty much called him a pedophile," Nathan agreed and Buck's blush intensified.

"Maybe I went a little too far," Buck admitted.

"Don't tell us," Tanner said abruptly. "Try telling them."

\--------------------------------------------

JD really liked the way Ezra smelled. It probably wasn't the moment to ask him what it was that made him so edible, but nonetheless, it was pretty much all he could think about with the man wrapped up in his arms, as tense as he could be. Maybe it was natural. Adrenaline pumping out sweat and pheromones. He repressed the urge to burrow his nose into the man's neck, maybe into his pits just to get a real good breath of him.

"John, are you even listening to me?"

"Oh yes. Er."

Ezra's shoulders shook. "Charmed as I am that you find me so distracting, perhaps we could return to the subject?"

JD shrugged. "They're being assholes. That Buck guy's a jerk. I've heard it all before, it ain't true and we might as well let it go."

"Admirably succinct. However, having made our retreat out here, we are now faced with the problem of going back inside without anyone losing face."

"You worry too much Ez. We can just take in the beers. No one'll care *what* we were doing then." He grinned when Ezra laughed ruefully.

"You've the right of that, darlin'."

JD hugged him tightly to him, and Ezra's tension eased a little. "Besides, I reckon they're tearing strips off of him in there."

"Excuse me?"

"You saw their faces, right?"

"I. They seemed most displeased." He frowned, wondering how the hell they were going to fix this.

"They weren't looking at you, you doofus." JD shook him slightly. "They were looking at that brain dead lump."

Ezra pulled away and looked at him with some amusement. "I know."

"If you knew what are we doing out here?"

Ezra smirked, and raised a hand to his face. "Object lesson," he said cryptically. He slid his hand through JD's hair and cupped the back of his head. "Wanna play?"

"Just how far are you planning on taking the object lesson," he asked, grinning. He only had to move his lips a fraction of an inch and they were resting against Ezra's, so close that as he spoke his lips moved against his, and his breath warmed his skin.

"Why don't we see how far they let us," he murmured, and they kissed.

Kissing Ezra was like nothing else, like nobody else. They were the same height, very much the same build, but Ezra seemed slight and fine boned in his embrace, for all the hard muscles of his shoulders and back, and JD felt almost large and clumsy next to the man's grace and tightly controlled strength. He nuzzled at his cheek, exploring the slanted cheekbones, then trailing back across his nose and down to his lips again. Ezra's skin was soft and tasted of aftershave and salt, some kind of spicy flavor that was sharp and fresh and warming. It was completely smooth, his face moved easily without the burn of stubble that he had expected at the end of a long day. Maybe he'd shaved before coming home.

The thought warmed him, even as he wondered when he'd started thinking of here as 'home'. He pressed closer, letting that warmth settle at the foot of his spine and tremble all the way up and dabbing little licks and kisses along Ez's lips until Ezra bit down on his tongue, trapping it. He stroked Ezra's tongue, and smiled as he fought back and they played, his mind gone, the world gone, everything narrowed down to Ezra's hands, Ezra's lips, Ezra's body. Ezra.

He moaned the name out and felt a smile pull at his lover's lips, and the arms around him pulled him harder into his firm body, so close that he staggered. Immediately a thigh slid between his legs, taking instant advantage of his momentary lack of balance. He pushed forwards, rubbing his hardening shaft over the warm strength of sleek muscles.

A hand carded through his hair, and he moaned deep in his throat as it stroked his head, over and over, forcing the kiss deeper and deeper.

"Ahem?"

They were both breathing hard. He could feel Ezra's chest expanding and contracting rapidly under his arms. He gripped at his back, then stroked firmly up and down his flanks, pulling him in closer with each sweep. Gasping for air he rested his face against Ezra's, and tried to bite back a helpless, "Oh god," as Ezra took the exposure of his neck as an opportunity to nuzzle, nip, bite and suckle his way down the line of his throat. He sank his teeth into JD's shoulder where it met his neck, and JD jerked forwards into his body.

"Excuse me?"

A pair of hands dragged down his back into his pants and gripped his ass cheeks hard. JD rocked eagerly between the leg spreading his wide, and the hands pulling his ass open. He turned his face into Ezra's neck and kissed him, pulling away enough that the man had to let go and they stared into each other's eyes, passion fading from an inferno to a mere blaze, and mischief filling both expressions. JD leaned his forehead against Ezra's and then they both tilted their heads to look at the scarlet faced man trying to interrupt them.

"Yes?" They said as one, impatience in their voices.

Buck stuck his hand in his waistband, tugging nervously as he looked at the two of them. Neither man's eyes gave him any reason to feel optimistic. Ezra's was completely blank, and the kid's -- JD's, John's whatever his name was, was only too readable, an odd mix of anger and wary appraisal.

"Come on, Ez, you know me, I didn't mean anything by it." He met each pair of eyes in turn, hooded green and open hazel. "Ez?"

"John?"

The kid shrugged, still wrapped in the circle of Ezra's arms and Buck looked properly at him. The kid's hands were bunched in Ezra's shirt, he could see white knuckles betraying that the boy wasn't as calm as he was trying to appear. "Was you he was saying stuff about. I'm used to people thinking I ain't old enough."

Buck ducked his head uncomfortably. "Sorry, Ez. You know how I get."

The kid's eyes were steady on him and he shifted uneasily, perching himself on the edge of the kitchen table. "Look, kid--"

"JD."

"JD. I was just kinda--" he shook his head, trying to find the word.

"Surprised?"

"Disconcerted?"

"Stupid?"

"Antediluvian?"

"Dumb?"

"Yeah." Rerunning the rapid-fire words he looked up and caught the two men smirking at each other. "Hey!"

JD laughed and after a moment Ezra's face lightened. Buck sighed with relief. "I'm sorry, guys." He stuck out a hand. "Start over?"

"I strongly advise against--" Ezra tried to warn his friend, but too late. JD took Buck's hand and suddenly found himself the victim of an attempted noogie.

JD yanked himself away from the laughing man, and glared at Ezra. "Next time, warn a guy."

"You may recall, I did try--" he tried to cover himself and JD just grinned evilly.

"You'll get yours later, Standish."

Buck looked from one to the other and started snickering. "Ez, I think this is going to work out just fine."

"You too." JD warned the big man, with no apparent awareness of the eight inches or so height difference between them.

"Hey, I hope not!" Ez said mischievously, and JD's eyebrows shot up.

"I can't imagine what you think I was planning on doing to you..." He slid a hand down from Ezra's shirt into the back of his pants.

"Whoa!" Buck put a hand over his eyes and held the other out imploringly, "Guys, please, straight boy in the room. Does *not* need to know."

"You? A prude, Mr. Wilmington? I never realized your sensibilities were so refined." Ezra said coolly.

Buck lifted his hand away from his eyes and looked narrowly at him. "Don't push it." He glanced at JD's wrist, all that was visible above Ezra's waistband. "That goes for you too. Kid."

JD grinned and pulled his hand out. "I'd shake, only you'd probably rather I didn't," he said helpfully, then collapsed into giggles.

Ezra looked at him. Looked at Buck. Drew a very deep breath, and as JD headed to the sink to wash his hands, said politely to Buck, "If you would care to assist me with the bags we can perhaps arrange the comestibles and beverages for our colleagues."

Buck grinned and reached for a bag. "Sure. Hey, kid! Get one of those bags wouldya?"

JD scowled at him, drying his hands on his sweats, "Get it yourself."

"John..."

JD's lips thinned, but he got the bag and lifted it to the table with a grunt. "What've you *got* in there."

The clinking made Buck's comment almost unnecessary. "Beer, boy." He lifted a bottle out and looked at it critically. "Too warm. Needs to go in the fridge for half an hour."

JD rolled his eyes but hoisted the heavy bag over to the huge refrigerator, and started unpacking the bottles into the shelves.

"Beer!" An unfamiliar voice called out with the kind of triumph normally reserved for finding the Lost City of El Dorado.

JD looked around at the shout and discovered that the kitchen was suddenly full of tall men, who were rummaging through bags, breaking out snacks or in one case peering over his shoulder at the beer.

"Ain't cold enough," Buck said firmly to the brown haired man staring mournfully over JD's shoulder into the fridge. "You let the boy put it away, and you can have some later."

The man slapped JD on the back. He wasn't much taller than him, but built on bony lines, his hair curling almost to his shoulders. "Close it up, kid," he told him cheerfully, "Sooner it's cold, sooner we get to drink."

JD pulled the last few bottles and shut the door.

"Good man." The man grinned at him and stuck a hand out. "Vin Tanner."

"JD Dunne," JD said, shaking Tanner's hand.

"Guess Ez told you all about us," Tanner asked.

JD shrugged. "Didn't say much. Think he wanted me to make up my own mind."

"Very wise," a deep voice rumbled from behind him. He turned and looked up, and up. "Josiah Sanchez. Ezra has said good things about you."

"He has?" JD glanced over at Ezra who was watching with a look that seemed somewhere between disinterested curiosity and panic.

Josiah smiled suddenly. It was not an entirely comforting look. "By their fruits shall ye know them." He nodded as though well content with this thought, and turned back to the table. "Brother, not *Hostess* cakes?"

Ezra actually reddened even as Tanner whooped and dived for the sweet stuff. He glanced over at JD, who read his intention and smiled back shyly, and nodded.

"Mr. Tanner, I did not purchase those repulsive pieces of pseudo-bakery for *you*." He winked at JD who edged round the kitchen to Ezra's side. He looked around, taking in the men rummaging through the bags on the table, Jackson tutting over something, Tanner and Wilmington squabbling good naturedly. His mind slipped to what they had done the previous day on that very table, and he cursed himself as his fair skin reddened. Ezra's hand -- at least, he hoped it was Ezra's hand, rubbed at the small of his back.

That left just Larabee, and he looked around to find a pair of pale eyes studying him coolly. That had to be him. He smiled tentatively and the man inclined his head slightly, then deliberately looked away. JD breathed a silent sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted was those eyes reading his every thought. He stayed quiet, watching the others interacting.

Wilmington was trying to steal one of the chocolate brownies, while Tanner was trying to make a break from the table with the whole packet, but was repeatedly foiled by Buck's quick steps until Wilmington stumbled and Tanner split, diving for the door triumphantly clutching the battered packet. Wilmington scowled at the quietly smirking blond who had tripped him.

"No mercy, Larabee," he pointed accusingly at him. "I feel lucky tonight. No mercy!"

Ezra cleared his throat slightly. "On that, ah, point, it behooves me to mention that JD has not long been acquainted with the fine art of poker."

"Damn, Ez," Buck said with a smirk, "guess you've been finding some other games to play with the kid?"

JD blushed red.

"Don't worry, we'll take it easy on you," he added with a wide grin. "Imagine that," he added, staring up at the ceiling innocently, "Ezra dating a card virgin..."

"Buck..." the blond guy growled, and Wilmington subsided.

"No harm, no foul, right?" He looked around and grabbed an armful of chips and mini pretzels. "I'll go put these out."

"Old fool never knows when to quit," the blond said with a faint smile. "Chris Larabee."

"JD Dunne," JD said, wide eyed, shaking the man's hand fervently.

"Been looking forward to this evening," Larabee added, his eyes glinting with something like amusement. "Haven't I, Standish."

"No doubt with bated breath, Mr. Larabee."

He turned to follow his men back out into the living room, then paused by the door and spoke without turning his head. "Go easy on Buck, Ez."

"I have no idea what you could mean, Mr. Larabee," Ezra said with an evil grin.

"I know you. Don't forget that."

JD scooped up the remaining packages and was about to follow when Ezra murmured, "Just a moment."

"Sure. Whassup?" He turned and smiled at Ezra.

Ezra surveyed him closely, then smiled. "You'll do just fine. Just remember to calculate the odds, and bet to win on anything where you are reasonably certain your hand exceeds theirs."

"And yours?"

"Don't worry about mine." Ezra grinned wickedly. "I think Mr. Wilmington needs a little education in the finer points of probability theory."

JD frowned. Did he mean he was going to throw the game if JD had a winning hand? But... "How are you going to know what I've got?"

"Trust me, darlin'," Ezra said very softly, and JD nodded instantly.

"I do, Ez."

"I know." They kissed again, the lightest of touches, and parted as a yell from Buck echoed through the house.

"Standish! Get in here and leave the kid alone!"

"Ready, Mr. Dunne?"

"Ready, Mr. Standish," JD grinned.

"And JD, for god's sake -- we bet in *dollars*!"

\--------------------------------------------

JD scowled furiously at his hand. He'd blithely assured Ezra that calculating the odds for seven players was no different than for two. And in theory, the odds were actually *better* for him, as he was looking at a one in six, discounting Ez's hand, as opposed to one in seven that everyone else was facing. But the complexity of the sums was starting to tax even his abilities.

"Call, fold or play," Buck asked, in the tones of a man who thought that humoring the children was only going to lead to trouble.

"Um." He pushed a couple of his chips in to match the bidding. "I think that's what I want to do."

Buck groaned, but didn't say a word. It didn't matter. JD could almost hear the 'whose idea was it to allow the boy to play with the adults' comment anyway.

He closed his eyes as they went around again. Larabee's hand was going to win, unless something drastic happened. But Jackson was going to call. He smiled and opened his eyes again, looking first at Larabee, then Jackson, then Ezra. Ezra's eyes crinkled in an almost invisible smile. He'd got it right. He relaxed visibly, and Ezra started to laugh as the others looked at JD warily.

JD blushed and stared at his hand. The only way he would win was if Larabee folded. He had no idea that the rest of the men were watching him narrowly, and assumed that the exchange meant JD had a winning hand.

"So, you known Ez long?" Buck asked, blithely anteing up again.

"A while." JD shrugged, and Buck tried again.

"So, you're a student? I had a hell of a time when I was at Denver State," he grinned reminiscently, and there were groans around the table.

"Don't listen to him, kid," Nathan said with a friendly grin, "It's all lies."

"I'm wounded!" Buck chuckled, and then smiled reminiscently, "Ah, to be eighteen again." An elbow jabbed into his ribs, and he added, "Or twenty two, or-- Chris, you playing or not?"

Larabee shook his head. "I'm out." He nodded to Ezra.

"I believe I too shall retire from the lists." He smiled at his cards and laid them down.

"What are you studying?" Josiah asked quietly.

JD looked at him, "Um. AI."

"Really? Deep Blue sort of thing?" Jackson asked curiously, and pushed a couple of chips into the center.

"Nah. That's not really AI. It's not capable of passing the Turing test. Deep Blue was manually configured to respond to specific moves. It could make choices, but basically Kasparov was playing six computer techs and three grand masters. And it still only beat him once. I'm more interested in building things that learn for themselves. Give them a set of rules for the universe and let them apply them to their surroundings and events in their surroundings." He grinned deprecatingly. "Mostly they're learning to navigate Troy mazes at the moment."

He looked up to find six pairs of eyes on him. "Theoretically. It's all modeled in my computer at the moment. But it ought to work in the real world too."

"It sounds," Sanchez paused, possibly unintentionally, "fascinating."

"Is that the next step when you go back?" Ezra rescued him. "Building the real things?"

"Yeah."

"JD left school to look after his mother," Ezra told the others.

"Yeah," JD agreed, eyes still on the table. "Um. I call." He lost, and Nathan scooped the pot with a big grin.

"How did you guys meet?" Nathan cut the cards and started dealing.

"A bar."

"A nightclub."

The two of them looked at each other and Ezra smiled. "It was a long time ago, at the Blue Moon."

"Yeah," JD agreed, wondering if he should elaborate or just stick to monosyllables. The monosyllables were working pretty well. Especially with Chris Larabee's eyes on him, looking as though they could see every bad thing he had ever done, right back to tying Ms Prentice's boot laces together in Kindergarten. While she was wearing them. "Just before Christmas."

Ezra nodded. "Indeed."

Shit. Maybe Ez wanted him to do the next bit. Had they ever agreed the next bit? "I tripped over and dropped my drink all over this guy," JD colored. Larabee wasn't believing a word of it, he just knew it. "And--"

"And after I had thoroughly castigated him for damaging my suit, he bought me another drink." Ezra shrugged, lightly, ignoring the incredulous stares of his team mates.

"You killed one of Ezra's suits and he's still talking to you?" Buck asked.

JD swallowed. "Um." Stick to monosyllables. "Yeah." He could hear his heart pounding, and his hands were sweating. God, this was a *terrible* idea.

"You ride?" Larabee derailed the entire conversation, and JD gaped at him blankly before nodding, eternally grateful.

"Yeah."

"The Kawasaki outside yours?"

"Yeah," he smiled at Tanner, who had finally asked a safe question, and moreover, had recognised the machine despite its state of disrepair. "I'm gonna fix her up, but she runs just fine. I stripped out the engine two years ago, right down to the wires, she doesn't look like much, but I can get a hell of a turn out of her." He stopped dead, and hastily added, "On race tracks. Not on roads. I wouldn't race her on a road."

"Relax, we're not the State Patrol, kid," Larabee drawled.

"You race?" Ezra said blankly.

"Oh. Um. I guess I didn't mention that, huh?" JD said woodenly, and winced as the others exchanged glances.

"Well, you all know my opinion of those things," Nathan said, and Tanner rolled his eyes.

"Death machines. Donor cycles. I keep telling him, it's not the bikes, it's the other idiots on the road."

JD nodded. "Yeah, yeah. People just don't look for bikes, if you ain't an SUV you might as well not exist."

"SUV's!" Tanner muttered. He threw a glare at Larabee. "Honking great gas guzzling environment killers."

Larabee merely smirked. "A/C, Tanner. A/C."

"Who needs that if you're on a bike, right?" Tanner winked at JD, who grinned at him.

"Right."

Sanchez smiled, "Brothers, I am feeling lucky. Call." He scowled when JD's hand full house in queens won. "The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away," he sighed, and smiled at JD, who was trying to watch all of them. It was easier for them. Each of them only had to watch one person. He was trying to keep track of six.

"Your deal," Ezra said calmly, and slid him the deck.

JD panicked momentarily, then kept his eyes down, copying what the others had done.

"When did you leave New York?" Sanchez asked casually, and JD dropped his cards, and had to scrabble for them on the floor.

"I -- uh, we moved when I was twelve."

"Ah," the big man nodded thoughtfully. "That would explain the faintness of the accent."

"You can hear it still?" JD asked incredulously. "But I've lived all over since then."

"Just call him Professor Higgins," Ezra said deadpan, and JD giggled, then shut up when no one else laughed.

"Did you spend some time in England?"

"I had two years there for my first graduate degree. Can you hear that too?"

Josiah nodded, but Jackson spoke next. "Really, which school?"

"Imperial," he took in the blank looks. "It's part of the University of London." He took in the further blank looks. "It's up there for math and engineering."

"When was that?"

JD shrugged. "Three years ago." There was a brief silence.

"You went out three years ago?" Buck frowned.

"I came back three years ago." He looked round. Ezra and Tanner were grinning. So was Sanchez. He couldn't read Larabee or Jackson, and Buck looked like he was dying to call him a liar. "Really."

"You went to England at nineteen to do a graduate degree?"

JD shook his head. "Seventeen. Two year course."

"And they let you?" Buck said incredulously.

"Why wouldn't they?"

Buck had no answer to that which would not result in Ezra getting even angrier at him. And as he had yet to win a hand this evening anyway, he kept his mouth shut. He was pretty certain the two things were not unrelated. He looked in puzzlement at his hand. The cards weren't fantastic, but it was a reasonable set. With his hole card he could make a respectable showing of a full house in tens. But the betting was all wrong.

Chris had dropped out two rounds ago, smirking faintly. Ezra had folded this hand, as had Jackson, who looked like a man who knew a joke too crude to share, but too funny to be able to stay sober.

It was just him, the preacher, Tanner, and the kid.

The kid's turn, and he glanced at Ezra who smiled.

"Don't look at me, John, look at your cards," he encouraged neutrally. Buck eyed them both closely. There didn't seem to be any kind of secret communication going on. They weren't sitting close enough to touch, not even to play footsie under the table. JD's eyes dropped back to his cards and he seemed about to speak, then looked back at his lover.

"I, uh, call?"

Ezra nodded, and Buck's heart sank like a stone at the malicious sparkle in his green eyes.

He'd been *had*.

He didn't need to see the cards turn over.

He sat back and shook his head. "How the hell do you *do* that?" What he wanted to ask, badly, was whether the kid had really never played before yesterday, but he figured he'd already used up his allotment of really offensive questions for the night.

"Um." JD looked at Ezra again, who nodded encouragingly. "We were saying about me being um, a grad student?"

"In robots and stuff, right?" Buck didn't get it. Unlike several of his team mates, apparently. Jackson groaned and put a hand over his face. Sanchez merely grinned and laid his hand down. Larabee was still smirking, and Tanner, damn his black little heart was chuckling under his breath.

"Um," the kid stared at his hands nervously. "I kinda do, that is, one of the things I spend a lot of time on, is sort of. Well."

"Probability."

"Yeah." JD smiled at Buck, now that Ezra had made the actual revelation for him. "It's a big part of the networks I'm trying to build in my AI program. And I'm kinda, well, you know. Good at figuring odds. And remembering stuff."

Buck just shook his head. "You're telling me you never played before yesterday. And you out played us?"

"Well, not all of you." JD said incautiously, and then snapped his mouth shut. "Er."

"I knew John's capabilities, Mr. Wilmington," Ezra intervened smoothly. "You, on the other hand, grossly underestimated them."

"You -- you." He glared. "You *played* me." He spat the word out like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

"I allowed you to behave according to your preconceptions." Ezra smiled toothily. "May I interest anyone in a further game of chance?"

"Gotta say, Ez, that was a damn fine game," Tanner said with an amused grin, and nodded at JD. "You too, kid."

JD smiled brilliantly back, "Which one?"

"Oh, both of 'em." Larabee said laconically. "Is there more beer?"

JD bounced to his feet, ignoring Ezra's resigned look, "I'll get 'em. Y'all want one?"

A general chorus of yeses and he nodded. "Back in a sec."

There was a brief silence as the six men waited for someone else to speak first. In the end, Ezra gave in.

"Well, gentlemen?"

Larabee's lips twitched in a half smile. "He'll do." And then there was no chance to say anything more, as the kid swept back in, bottles clutched in hands and under arms.

* * *


	9. Metus ipse

Ezra surveyed the decimated remains of the evening of beer, poker and vast quantities of snacks with a feeling somewhere between satisfaction and dismay. The place was a mess. No two ways about it, his colleagues were slobs to a man, and his newly acquired companion was possibly the worst of the lot.

Thinking of John reminded him, and he headed over to cautiously open the tv cabinet. Sure enough a large black box and dozens of cables came slithering out. He just managed to catch the box, and scooped some of the wires back, but the joystick fell as its lead was pulled, out from where it had been jammed against the side of the tv and straight onto his foot. Even with shoes on it hurt.

"Dammit, kid," he muttered darkly, and carefully lowered the mess to the floor. He disconnected the box and gazed helplessly at the jungle of black cables twining itself around him and his furniture.

"Ez?" Vin's voice broke the silence, and he looked round.

"I was just going to check that he hadn't damaged anything when he put it away." Somewhat to his own horror he realised he sounded apologetic. His state of mind wasn't helped as Vin's shoulders shook gently, although only his eyes showed his amusement.

"Got you good, didn't he?" he asked, and walked over to crouch by the mess. "I gotta say," he added, sitting back on his heels, "that you might wanna just leave it to him."

Ezra looked at his forty eight inch plasma screen, and the memory of how the mess at his feet had been jammed in and around it rose before his eyes and winced. "I dread to see how he would improve on his first attempt."

"His toy, he'll know how to fix it, take it apart, won't he?" He waved vaguely at the cables. Ezra turned his head and looked at him with a pained expression on his face.

"Thank you for the thought. My gratitude is inexpressible. Can I assist you in some manner?"

"Was looking for a glass. Get some water."

"You may find the kitchen more suited to your quest."

Vin looked at him.

"Kitchen." He waved one arm towards the doorway. "It that way. Water in fridge. Glass in cupboard."

Vin grinned and stood. "Can see you're in a fine mood this evenin'."

"I was not anticipating house guests."

Vin's grin widened.

"I didn't mean to say-- It is no consequence. I only --"

Vin nodded. "Didn't mean to cramp your style." he said sympathetically, and patted his back before dodging nimbly out of the way of any retaliation. "I'll warn the boys to ignore any hollerin' and squealin'."

"Get out, Tanner. Now. Before I am forced to perform surgery to remove some part of this from your anatomy. I understand there are considerable penalties accruing to those that practice without a licence."

Vin chuckled and left the room.

Ezra could hear the opening and closing of cupboards, and then the distinctive sound of water in a glass. There was a murmur of voices, and he remembered that JD was in the kitchen, picking up the remnant of the crockery and packing it into the dishwasher. He quelled his instant move to go and rescue the boy. JD had held up remarkably well amongst the strong personalities of his colleagues. He'd manage a little longer.

He stared helplessly at the mess in front of him and shrugged. The mess was distressing, but the look on Wilmington's face when he realised that he had been trounced by a kid who had never played poker before that night made up for a lot. A hell of a lot. He grinned wickedly.

"John!"

The boy appeared a moment later, "You bellowed, master?"

"John, this--"

"My X-Box! Ez! What are you doing?" He skidded to his knees by the box and tenderly lifted it up off of its side.

"Could you do something about this mess?" He tugged at the cables that had somehow wrapped themselves around his knees.

"Whoa! Stop! Let me." He carefully unravelled the cables as Ezra kept still. He swallowed hard, watching John's ass as the boy crawled around him, and had to drag himself away from appreciating that fine, rounded bottom as John spoke again, his mind clearly running on some other track entirely. "It was fine, Ez. Out of sight and all." He righted the joystick examining it minutely , running his fingers gently over the uncomfortably phallic item. "You shoulda left it. It woulda been fine."

"I would like it to be tidy on the *inside*, if you don't mind." Ezra said repressively. He shifted his weight onto one knee in hope of easing the growing pressure in his crotch.

John's eyebrows raised. "Man, talk about anal," he muttered, and set about disentangling the wires.

Ezra's mind instantly flashed to just *how* anal they both could be, and gritted his teeth as his body reacted to the memories. Not with people in the house, he told himself and pursed his lips. "I will conclude the last elements of clearing up while you extricate that." He stood and walked out of the living room, willing his instinctual reaction to subside. It was neither appropriate nor required, he told himself sternly.

Mercifully, the kitchen was empty. Judging by the sounds upstairs Tanner was washing. Jackson and Sanchez had gone home, Josiah had abstained from drinking for just that purpose. Larabee however had not despite being designated driver, supposedly taking Wilmington and Tanner home. As a consequence, he, Buck and Vin were now going to stay the night.

If he had been a suspicious man he would have suspected it had been deliberately planned. He smiled grimly. Oh yes, that was right. He *was* a suspicious man. He was pretty sure that none of the team had believed their hastily cobbled story, although they were being polite enough to refrain from calling him a liar to his face.

He crumpled the last remnants of rubbish and packets viciously, and shoved them into the waste bin. "Damn."

He silently found the dishwasher tablets and set it to start cleaning, and absently noted that his earlier excitement had wilted entirely. He leaned on the machine as it started whirring and gurgling almost inaudibly. His head ached, and he rolled his shoulders and then his neck, trying to relieve tense muscles.

A pair of hands settled tentatively on his shoulders and rubbed gently. "Sorry, Ez."

"It's not you," he shook his head and relaxed under John's hands. Even though they did nothing more than simply rub lightly the touch was warming and soothing, and he leaned back into it. He felt a soft touch on the nape of his neck, and it occurred to him that John seemed to have a thing for that particular spot.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. I am merely tired and wishing we had the house to ourselves." He turned and John's hands locked behind his neck. Ezra sighed.

"I tidied it into its box." John said tentatively. There was a long silence as Ezra felt the evening's tension ease from his neck. He had not realised how John might interpret his silence until the kid spoke again, even more hesitantly than before. "They've gone to bed, haven't they?"

"John-- no, please." Ezra shook his head, even as he settled his hands on his lover's waist. John smiled resignedly.

"It's okay. I won't embarrass you, I promise." He kissed Ezra's lips chastely, and stepped back. Ezra suddenly wanted more than anything to follow John, to step back into that warmth, and quelled the desire firmly. John frowned, and reached a hand to Ezra's face, not quite touching. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

JD shook his head. "No. Your face has gone -- I dunno. All shut up and blank."

"Blank?"

"Yeah. Like that." JD brushed a gentle finger over Ezra's brow, then rested his hand against his cheek. "It's like you just closed down on me." His fingers drifted lower and traced Ezra's lips, "These are always saying something even when you aren't speaking." He shook his head. "But just then, you stopped."

"I'm sorry."

JD shook his head dismissively. "My bad. I shouldn't pry."

Ezra studied his face carefully. The brown eyes were steady and clear. John's open face said only that he was worried. "I missed you," he said instead of any of the less possible phrases that had flitted through his mind. "And, perhaps I resented having to keep my hands to myself, instead of," his face lightened in a slanting grin. "Well. I owe you for lunch."

"I felt bad about that," John said unexpectedly. He wrapped one arm around Ezra's waist and pulled him towards the stairs.

"Bad?" He copied John's action, and they walked up the almost too narrow stairs slowly, bumping from side to side into the wall and the rail rather than let go. "I have to say I did not find myself experiencing regrets of any degree."

"Oh, not *that*. Just, you know, Ms. Recillos is gonna have to clean up that stuff."

"Don't give it a moment's thought," Ezra said firmly. "*I* have not." He grinned wickedly. "What I *have* thought about however, is that I was quite remarkably unfair to you."

John grinned back at him and they paused as they squeezed through Ezra's bedroom door together, scraping knuckles on the frame as they did so. "I don't know. I kinda enjoyed tasting you whenever I licked my fingers."

Ezra kicked the door shut and pushed JD against it. "Exactly my point." He divested JD of his shirt and t-shirt in one swift move, then dropped to his knees, taking JD's pants down to his ankles with him. He rested his hands on JD's hips, and tilted his head to look up at him. "No hair pulling or ear pulling," he warned, and settled in to enjoy his prize.

John was uncut, and he brushed his thumb gently over the soft tip of the glans, moving the thin foreskin. He breathed out and smiled as JD hardened in front of his eyes. He lapped delicately as the tip rose, then stroked with just his finger tips up and down the lengthening shaft.

"Don't have to--" John whispered, and Ezra licked across the slit in reply, then tipped his head back, savoring the taste.

"Mmm." He rubbed his cheek against JD's stomach, and stroked at his own cock through his pants letting the fabric spread and diffuse the sensation as he rubbed slow and hard. "Want to."

John's hair was as dark here as everywhere else, and he ran fingers through it, against the grain, then traced the lines of his crotch until they guided him down to his balls. The hair there was soft, and he breathed in deeply, then licked at them. Above him John moaned, and he pulled his head back even as heat burned through him.

"Shh. Guests," he murmured wickedly and John's eyes rounded with shock, the boy actually whimpered. A small clear drop emerged from the very tip of John's penis and he dabbed at it gently with closed lips, smearing it over the swollen tip, then licking at it until all he tasted was John's skin. He unbuttoned his pants himself one handed and sucked JD's cock deep into his mouth as his hand reached his own bare skin. He groaned at the familiar touch of his own hand on himself, stroking steadily, firmly. His head moved in complementary rhythm with his hand, sucking, licking, taking John further and further in.

"Oh god," John's words were muffled and he rested his parted lips on John's cock, keeping the contact steady with one hand as he looked up. The kid was staring back down at him, his pupils dilated, biting down on his wrist in an effort to muffle himself. "Ezra--"

"Shhh," he said again, and the words on the kid's cock startled him, and he jerked forwards, plunging himself into Ezra's mouth. Ezra's hand gripped at his hips, holding him still, and he took the time to savor the feel and taste of him in his mouth.

He sucked lazily, exploring the tight skin with his tongue. The soft gasps above him drifted from coherence into garbled nonsense as he moved. John's hand tightened on his shoulder and his hips moved rhythmically. Ezra pulled back a little and blew over the wet cock, then consciously relaxed and took JD deeper until his cock slid into his throat. He shuddered at the feel of it filling him, and cupped a hand to his throat to see if he could feel the hard meat stretching him.

He moved and moaned deeply as his fingers felt the movement of John's cock. He reached a hand down to himself, determined not to come, tugging hard on himself. His good intentions shattered as John cried out. John's face was hollowed out with ecstasy, his eyes closed, his head resting against the door as though too heavy for his neck to hold. A sharp jolt spasmed through his crotch, his hips moving with his hand on his cock. He relaxed, swallowed, pulling him in deeper, his muscles rippling against John's hard shaft.

"Oh god!" JD wailed and both hands gripped his head, buried in his hair, "Ez, oh, my, god!" His back arched away from the door and Ezra pulled far enough to taste his come, the thin salty stuff swirling slickly into his mouth. The taste left him shuddering and for a helpless moment he wondered if he was going to spill over the floor and John's widely braced feet. To his own amazement he managed to hold back, but he had no idea how. He pulled back just in time as JD's knees buckled and he slid down the door to sit bonelessly on the floor. Ezra sat back on his heels and smiled at him, licking stray droplets from his lips.

John laughed softly. "Cat that got the cream," he said at Ezra's quizzical look and touched Ezra's lips lightly. "Wow. Thank you."

"My pleasure." A hand cupped his erection and he swallowed, still tasting John in his mouth. "Please."

"Wanna wash up?" John asked instead, and pushed himself to his feet reaching a hand down to the older man with a smile that lit his eyes with warmth.

"And possibly brush my teeth," Ezra agreed.

"Hmm." John stopped him and kissed him deeply. "Taste just fine to me."

Ezra felt himself begin to blush and turned away. This was ridiculous. The boy was eight years his junior. Eight years combined with a lifetime of experience that should have him in control of his every moment, and here he was, blushing as though he was twelve and trying to make time with a girl. Or boy, he reminded himself. though at twelve he had not yet understood his disinclination to girls, merely writing it off as disdain for Maude's repeated attempts at using him in her schemes. He had lost count of how many teenage and pre-teen daughters he had been obliged to entertain, charm and generally dissemble to.

"Hey, where'd ya go?" John's arms tightened around him and he smiled quickly.

"Shall we attempt our ablutions?" He caught the withdrawal, the warmth in JD's eyes fading to watchful wariness.

"Sure." He shrugged and released Ezra. He didn't look back at him as he headed quietly into the bathroom.

Ezra pursed his lips thoughtfully. He was going to have to make a decision fairly shortly, he could see, to keep this in the terms he had planned -- well that was impossible. Or to change it to something else.

Something that for some reason that he was trying not to analyze, he didn't want to have dictated and constrained by a contract.

And he wondered what John would say if he offered to tear it up... Absurdity. Why in God's name was he allowing a virtual stranger to so drastically alter his life? Was he *that* desperate? That needy?

He looked at the man quietly washing, water running down his bare chest and something stirred in him. He waited until he was done and then cleaned up, brushing teeth, washing himself down, ignoring the ache in his crotch until it faded. He had more self control than this.

As he came out of the bathroom he found John was waiting by the bed, watching him anxiously, shuffling from foot to foot. His very silence unnerved Ezra, and he didn't really mean to stretch out a hand and run a finger down his cheek. JD caught Ezra's hand between his cheek and his shoulder, rubbing his face against his trapped hand, and he froze. It was as though his heart began beating for the first time, thrumming madly in his ears, right at the same moment as vertigo swooped through him as dizzying as if the ground suddenly disappeared beneath him.

There was no sound. The silence was suffocating.

John's hand reached up and grasped his, holding it to his shoulder. A gentle touch on his face sent shivers racing down his back and arms. He was certain that, should he look, he would find every hair standing on end as though a sharp gust of cold wind had raced over him.

JD stepped closer, taking his other hand and holding it loosely.

"Ezra." His voice was hoarse, and Ezra wanted to say something but somehow all he could think about was the way that those eyes weren't so much brown as hazel, a thousand different flecks of color from brown to gold and back again, and wondering what the mind behind those eyes was thinking.

"Ez... we. This is--"

He leaned forward and gently kissed his lips in a closed mouth, chaste feather light touch. "This isn't about that damn piece of paper."

"No." JD's hands tightened around his own, a small, uncertain smile warming his eyes. "No, I guess it's not." He moved forwards slowly, watchfully, as if half expecting him to back away.

Ezra swallowed. The kid wasn't so far wrong about that. But somehow, those two hands wrapped lightly about his own held him no less securely than chains of steel. Every instinct was telling him to back away, not to get caught, not to get involved. If there was one thing he prided himself on was his own intellectual honesty. No matter what he said or did, he never lied to himself. And that same pride was spiking his ability to smooth his path out of this, stopping the easy lies that would protect him. Protect them both. It was supposed to be a mere platonic arrangement. And then it was supposed to just be sex. God help him, meaningless encounters were almost a way of life.

"I think I'm falling for you." John whispered directly into his ear. A secret for the two of them. A trust that deserved equal trust.

He wanted to smile, but the expression somehow wouldn't come to him. A thousand hollow smiles, and all he needed was one, just *one*, to lie to the boy...

"Don't. It's okay." John settled back, smiling into Ezra's eyes. "You don't have to do anything about it. I just thought you should know."

It dawned on him, too late, that the boy thought his silence meant that he did not feel it too. Whatever 'it' was. He wanted to speak but the moment passed, and instead he twisted his hands in John's and lifted them one after the other to his lips.

Good Lord, he wanted to say, utterly astonished by his heart's betrayal, I *know* I'm falling for you. Even in his mind he refused to use the word he knew they both meant. So much for honesty, he told himself ruefully.

He looked up to find those dark eyes on him, a question in them, and he was surprised to find he had a smile for him after all. He pulled him to his feet and whispered, "I believe we should do nothing rash."

"Sure. Nothing rash."

"Perhaps we should make sure that this 'connection' is not merely proximity." John started to frown and he shook his head. "We should make sure that we do in fact have other," his eyes swept down JD's naked body, "things in common."

JD shivered. "What sort of things?" he asked, and licked his lips.

"Oh," Ezra almost laughed as he tugged him onto the bed, "I'm sure we can think of something."

* * *


	10. Ianua caeli: An interlude

JD woke at the touch of soft kisses across his face. He sighed contentedly and blindly kissed back, too warm and drowsy to open his eyes.

"Mmmm." A smile curved his lips. Ezra's hands were stroking idly along his back, and a shiver run through him. He snuggled closer and nuzzled into his lover's shoulder.

"John?"

JD smiled and slowly opened his eyes, peering from under half closed lids. "Hey," he said sleepily. "Did I tell you I love the way you say my name?"

"What?" Ezra traced a line down one side of JD's face, and leaned into his accent, drawling the word through molasses. " John?"

"Hmmm," he agreed, and shifted closer still, savoring the warmth of Ezra's body pressed against his front, legs inextricably tangled up and crooked around each other, the sheets cool and crisp at his back in the way only freshly laundered linen can be. A shaft of light spilled in a long blaze from the curtains across the floor and over the bed, hot and blinding bright where the rest of the room was dim and cool.

He could hear banging noises downstairs and frowned.

"If fortune favors us in the most minuscule degree," Ezra smoothed out his frown, "That will be my colleagues helping themselves to breakfast and then leaving."

"Damn." JD rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling until Ezra's face got in the way. Green eyes as sleepy as his own smiled at him, and then Ezra dropped his head into the crook of his neck. "I forgot about them."

Ezra's shoulders shook. "I could tell," was his only reply, and he moved fast as a snake to grip JD's wrist before he could slap his behind. "Easy, dear boy. My derriere is quite sore enough, thank you."

"Sorry," JD's good mood evaporated.

"Sorry?" Ezra leaned up to meet his eyes, "Sorry? Are you apologizing for last night?"

"No, I-- I mean," he stumbled to a halt and looked away.

"I thought you were enjoying yourself?"

JD shivered and felt himself hardening as he remembered the slick pleasure of loving Ezra; the warmth and the strength that held him, had driven him insane until he slowed and took his time finding the stroke that drove Ezra to incoherent ecstasy. A hand cupped his shaft where it lay trapped between them, and Ezra laughed softly.

"I will take that as a yes," he said, and slowly closed his fist around JD.

"Ezra..." His eyes fell shut and he groaned, trying to keep the noise down, mindful of the cheerful male voices floating up from downstairs.

"Shhh," Ezra told him softly and stroked again in a firm grip.

JD drifted, warmth gathering through him, and an edgy excitement. "The window's open," he protested feebly, and Ezra laughed.

"Now, is it?"

JD wriggled, his back arching into Ezra's steady touch. He reached for him, and pulled him in close, licking lightly at his lips but when Ezra tried to kiss him he smirked and dodged out of the way. "Taste good."

"Clearly you require your breakfast if all you can think about is eating me," Ezra said, mock serious, and JD's shoulders shook before he twisted and rolled on top of his friend. He stilled for a moment, looking down at the smiling face below him. Last night he'd... he'd tried to say something about what this meant to him, but Ezra had ignored it, or not wanted to hear it. Probably both. Now, wasn't that something. A whore falling in love with his john. Poor, stupid John. He laughed softly, and kissed Ezra, taking his time to really enjoy the soft mobile lips, the textures of the man's mouth, smooth and rough, edges and curves.

"I believe," Ezra pulled back, panting, "That you still owe a certain debt..." He let his voice trail off meaningfully, and JD frowned before he remembered.

"I think we got most of the kisses," his eyes lit up, "but I'm still behind on the blow jobs." He started to slither down Ezra's body, and was surprised by a tight grip on his upper arms. "Ez?"

"I think that perhaps I would like the greater debt paid this morning," he said meaningfully, and waited until comprehension dawned before loosening that grip.

"Oh. Okay," JD agreed and then paused, eyed him doubtfully and added, "What exactly did you have in mind?"

A crash and shout of laughter from downstairs froze him, and all the possible 'kinky experiments' that Ezra might insist on with three other men in the house started flooding through his only too fertile imagination. "Ez, no." He didn't mean to say anything at all. He didn't mean to refuse him, not when he owed him twice over, even if one debt was just from playing cards, the other debt was too huge to say no.

"JD?" Ezra's arms wrapped around him and hugged him close, "Why, whatever is the matter?"

JD shook his head. He'd follow through -- no one was going to accuse him of welching, but... "Nothing," his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, "Whatever you want, Ez."

To his surprise, Ezra rolled his eyes to look at the ceiling, to ask it, "Now, what megrim do you suppose that boy has got into his head, hmm?" He looked back at JD when the ceiling refused to answer, and winked. "I find the structure of the house to be pleasant but uncommunicative."

JD grinned momentarily, and then kicked himself.

"I'm not a monster, John. And as I said on that damn sheet, I'm not interested in sharin' you, not ever." He looked away, but his expression was gentle when he met JD's eyes again. "I'm not going to do anything you are not comfortable with. And I would prefer eager participation, to mere passive acceptance."

"Okay..." JD smiled and watched a rising smile dawn in Ezra's eyes too. "So, what exactly did you have in mind? And remember, it could be pasta alllll week."

Ezra shook with laughter, "I'll eat pasta and be grateful." He kissed him. "Now, hold still."

JD immediately wriggled and Ezra's body shook with laughter again. "I said don't move." He pushed him flat onto his back and propped himself up on his elbow, surveying his body with the look of a man deciding which part of the feast to indulge in first. "Your hands?" he ordered, and held his own out. When JD placed them in his grasp Ezra lifted his arms up to the head of the bed, and tucked JD's fingers around the edge of the mattress. "Hold on -- and don't move."

"Okay," JD said softly, and Ezra paused near his face.

"Close those eyes." He pressed a brief kiss to each eye, and smiled and nodded when JD shut them, opened them in a squint to check that Ez was happy, and then closed them again. "Beautiful," he murmured, and a shiver ran through JD's still body.

He waited silently for Ezra's next move, feeling strangely vulnerable, the tender skin of his inner arms exposed, aching, uncertain, but willing to trust in whatever Ezra wanted to do.

The sheet was dragged off of him and JD sighed quietly, sure that green gaze was contemplating him again. There was no sound but the voices downstairs, until the bed creaked. He felt the movement the same moment he heard it, the mattress dipping beside his hips.

He expected the first touch to be near his waistline, maybe even straight to his groin, so the light scrape of a fingernail from the crook of his elbow along the line of his inner arm up to his armpit sent a shudder through him. The touch didn't --quite-- tickle. Instead his entire world sharpened to just that touch. The scratch on his arm burned and he wondered if the welt was already rising. He shuddered again as Ezra's tongue soothed over it, leaving a long, cooling line of moisture. Ezra blew over it, and the coolness deepened.

He shook. The touch was nothing. Lighter than any caress. And yet he could think of nothing else. The mattress shifted again, but before he could drag his mind back to figure out where the next touch would come from, it was there, a trio of nails dragging along the top of his foot, each seeming to follow the vulnerable line of a prominent bone. He arched his feet, and a pair of hands gripped his ankles, forcing them back to stillness.

The tongue again followed the line of the welts, one after the other. He knew his own body, could almost see the red lines darkening against his perennially pale skin. Even the brief color of sunburn from last week had already gone, leaving barely a trace of its presence. Ezra's tongue dragged up one line, then a second and the third, each time ending at the same point on his ankle, and he whimpered, wanting that touch to stay. Instead it vanished and he waited, desperately trying to stop the trembling deep inside from spreading so that Ezra could feel it.

"Shhh," he heard, the word so quiet the sound was almost lost in the depths of the room. A finger trailed from the tip of his chin down his throat, over his adams' apple, and he swallowed, feeling it bob under Ezra's gentle finger, then down, stopping in the dip of his collarbone. A second touch joined it and they drifted out over his shoulders, following the lines of his bones, around, then up, the full hands sweeping slowly up his crooked arms, and then the mattress dipped on both sides of his hips as the hands twined themselves with his fingers.

JD's harsh breathing was the only sound in his ears, and then his open lips were covered, Ezra's mouth seizing and exploring as though he had never done this before. He groaned and tried to move his hands, but they were firmly pinned to the mattress, Ezra's weight resting on them and sprawled across his chest, his knees pressing high against his ribcage.

The kiss broke, "Stay still," he was reminded. The hands, then the rest of Ezra's body lifted away from him. JD tightened his hold on the bed. There was a hiss, and his whole body jerked as cold hit his right tit squarely, bubbling and tickling, icy shock jolting through him so hard he cried out, sure for a long moment that he had come. His breathing calmed, and Ezra trailed a finger through whatever it was he had sprayed onto him as it continued to fizz coldly. He half expected the second hiss of the spray can, but he still twisted his chest up, not sure if he was arching away from or towards the blinding cold that seemed to lick fire in his gut.

"Was that nice, darlin'?"

JD nodded mutely, his stomach tense. It blistered him with painful pleasure, little pinpricks of fire spearing through his chest in a line that was directly connected with his hips. Even so, he cried out helplessly when a line of the stuff hissed down from his sternum to his crotch, at first the cold and then the burn.

"The thing is," Ezra continued softly, and there was a faint thud as something hit the carpet, "that burn ointment contains an analgesic. So while it can be pleasurable here," a finger swirled around one nipple, and he whimpered, "it's less enjoyable, shall I say, further down." JD's breath caught. "Really, the better treatment for *that* burn is," something rough rubbed briefly up on side of his cock, "direct," and the other. It scraped and he just about guessed it must be stubble, "application..." Ezra's cheek rubbing against the side of his prick like a cat nuzzling a friend, and then was lost for words, "of water."

And with the word he was plunged into warmth, something icy, burning wet, the sensations so wildly different that he arched his back, driving his hips up, twisting and writhing. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to get away or to push closer. It didn't matter, and he nearly screamed when the wet heat pulled away, pushing up, desperately trying to follow.

A gentle hand on his stomach pushed him down again, and before he could gather any kind of thoughts together, the weight of Ezra's body pinned his hips. He trembled as his aching dick was grasped and the tip pressed firmly against slick flesh that parted, god, so slowly, until he was sucked inside, pulled inside out, enveloped.

A gasp above him was followed by Ezra moaning his name on a stuttering breath, "John... oh dear god..."

He opened his eyes and discovered Ezra, head back, eyes closed hands splayed on his own thighs, undulating his hips slowly, up and forward, down and back.

"Ez," he whispered, and Ezra's eyes opened, the green shuttered to black, as he watched Ezra took deeper and deeper breaths, riding a slow, steady beat, fucking himself on his cock.

Ezra gasped. The movements shifted off kilter, out of time with the drumming of the blood in his veins. He arched up; the world narrowed to just that point of contact: the slow easy thrust into wet slick heat, the bite of cold that still flickered around his cock.

"Ez, god... what the fuck--"

Ezra gasped out a breath that might have been a laugh, or might merely have been the helpless response to a particularly deep thrust, then he gulped air, his breathing speeding up and his face flushing deep red with effort. JD wanted to reach down, touch him, but couldn't release his hands from where Ezra had placed them.

He didn't need to. Moments later Ezra gasped, choked, and cried out, it almost sounded like pain, JD might have mistaken it for pain, but for the come spurting across his chest, spattering his chin as Ezra rode jerkily. His ass suddenly clenched around JD, flexing tightly as he slid in and out. He drove up hard, and Ezra stilled, breathing hard as JD closed his eyes again, coming hard, his mouth open in a soundless scream.

When he surfaced again, he half opened his eyes too exhausted to even speak at first. Ezra was leaning on his chest, chin propped on his hands, his elbows digging into JD's ribs hard enough that he thought there would be bruises. They were still joined and JD closed his eyes for a long moment, storing away the feel of the snug embrace keeping him within.

"Mornin' sleepyhead," Ezra teased, and JD chuckled.

"Can I," he cleared his throat and tried again, his voice sounding less croaky, "Can I move my hands?"

Ezra shifted and JD moaned as the motion pulled him out of him. He reached up to JD's hands and gently tugged clasping his hands and pulling them down to press a kiss on the back of each.

"Consider the debt paid," he said with a crooked grin, and JD shook his head.

"Thank you." He tugged and Ezra fell against him, briefly winding them both. He wrapped his arms around his lover, and rolled so they were side by side. "Ez? What the hell was that?"

"What?" The grin in Ezra's eyes made JD deeply suspicious, and he brushed a finger over one sticky tit and drew it cautiously up to his nose and sniffed.

"That." He held out his finger, smeared with clear goo, and waited.

"I told you, it is an ointment for alleviating burns and scalds." His eyes creased with amusement, "I don't know about you, but I feel extremely alleviated."

JD grinned, tried to speak, and instead yawned hugely. "And -- oh, the thing with your mouth?"

"Whatever can you mean?" Ezra asked coyly, eyes wide with mock innocence.

"God." JD shivered. "I don't know what you did, but it was fucking amazing."

"Language," he reproved and JD grinned up at him.

"Nah, I meant it literally."

"Touche," Ezra smirked. He slipped his arms under JD's shoulders and rested his head by JD's, stretching his legs out alongside him.

"Ya'ain't gonna say?"

"A man needs some secrets," Ezra yawned into JD's neck and then followed it with a kiss which was no more than a rubbing of his lips up the line of his throat, until he reached his ear, where he nibbled delicately.

"*Ez*," he said fiercely, and hugged him tight. He wanted to say -- well, it didn't matter, and instead he hugged tighter and said his lover's name again on a voiceless whisper. "Ez..."

* * *


	11. Via Obscurans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, the oddest things happen. Call it karma, right? Because calling Fate an evil cantankerous bitch would just be a Bad Idea. Right?

JD paced the sleek Jag as far as their paths coincided, then peeled away on his Kawasaki towards campus with a wave of his hand. The Jag's lights blinked at him briefly in farewell and he smiled.

"Bye, Ez," he said under his breath. "Seeya later."

It took no more than another fifteen minutes to find somewhere to park and head into his first of three classes for the day. He was still smiling when a hand clapped him on the back.

"Hey, Dunne, trying to make a go of it again?" A mocking male voice carried over the general chatter of the students around him, and he gritted his teeth. Morgan. The man had made a personal project of tormenting him from the day he first arrived. JD had already had three years at Denver under his belt, and at seventeen, he had no idea why beyond his private suspicions of homophobia. He had endured the years of Morgan's bullying and torment until he had left to nurse his mother, without a word to anyone but his advisors. And now of course, the man doubtless thought he had yet more ammo to loose, and was going to waste no time using it.

"Morgan," he said coolly. The man slapped him hard on the back, and JD hid a smirk. He was wearing his good leather jacket and while the blow probably left a bruise on him, he was willing to bet the sting hurt Alex Morgan's hand more.

"Try not to crack up under the strain this time," he said with mock sympathy when JD didn't rise to his bait. "They can only give you the benefit of the doubt so many times."

JD shrugged him off and headed into the first lecture of the day. Walking away had never made Morgan give up away before, but it was easier than getting into a fight that would only humiliate and upset him. A bitter lesson, thoroughly learned--never trust. He paused, struck by a thought. He hadn't held back with Ezra. It had been as though he knew he could trust him.

He sat down towards the front of the lecture room, and pulled out his laptop, plugging it into the power point at his feet, and acknowledging the wireless connection to the university LAN absently, his mind still turning over his unexpected realization. The whole business of the auction seemed more like a dream than anything real. Him sitting naked in a landscaped garden as rich men and women wandered past with no more interest in him than in the rest of the gardens, sometimes eying him like a choice cut on a meat counter. It no longer seemed real. Ezra was real. Ezra's house, and Ezra's friends.

His whole life was completely different, and he grinned abruptly. To people like Morgan he probably looked the same. Too short, too know-it-all, too insecure and over compensating for it. A geek who couldn't get a date with a girl and settled for boys. But inside he was a different person. Tempered by the loss of his mother, and given new strength by his own success at solving his financial troubles.

He ducked his head, and wondered what they would make of Ezra.

He caught his name and looked up to find a bevy of students gathered around Morgan, and listening avidly to him. He said something and as one the group broke into laughter, and several looked over at him, looking hastily away when he waved cheerily back.

Only a year ago he would have reddened at the implied insult. Would have felt himself near to tears. He'd had a mantra he would whisper to himself -- that he was okay, they were stupid and his mom loved him no matter what. He'd known it was childish at the time, but sometimes that steady litany was the only thing that kept him from bolting when he was the butt of innuendo and cruel mockery. Now, he didn't care.

Someone had paid half a million dollars for the privilege of his company.

He was worth more money than most of them would ever hold in their hands.

Ezra had assured him it would be platonic, nothing sexual about their relationship. But when he had made a pass at him -- he smirked a little, okay, he'd all out seduced the man, Ezra had tumbled into bed with him with every evidence of eagerness. Had slept with him, held him, praised him, introduced him to his friends.

Chairs around him thumped as Dr. Rosomon walked in and perched on the front desk, and everyone hastily took their seats.

"Morning, class. Everyone who is here for Probability 502 is in the right place, anyone who isn't should probably go recheck their class schedule," he said with a friendly smile. No one moved and his smile broadened. "Well done, you've all passed the first test!" he teased, and JD relaxed. Rosomon had encouraged him to apply for graduate school three years ago. He somehow managed to make mathematics blindingly clear and straightforward, turning lectures into sessions where he challenged them all to stretch and learn.

He settled back and listened.

At the end of the class Rosomon dismissed the class, then called to JD, "Mr. Dunne, if I could have a minute?"

"Sure, Professor." JD slung his backpack over one shoulder, hitched his helmet over his elbow, and waited by the desk.

"JD, I can't tell you how pleased I was to see you in class this morning," the man said warmly, and JD shifted in pleased embarrassment.

"Thank you, sir."

"I understand your mother..." he paused delicately and JD dropped his head.

"Mom passed away in May." He found himself choking on the words.

"I'm so sorry, JD," Rosomon said quietly. He looked away deliberately, picking up his papers and tapping them four square to give JD a moment.

JD shrugged helplessly. "Me too."

"Well, I was delighted to hear you were returning to us. JD, if you have any problems, anything at all, please don't hesitate. Just come over. My door is always open to you."

JD struggled to produce a smile. "Thanks," he said hoarsely.

"Now, as I recall, you were rather advanced with that project of yours," he changed the subject, kindly ignoring JD's discomfiture. "How is it going?"

JD smiled, this was something he could talk about without worrying about unexpected emotions ambushing him. "I've got the parameters set up in a program I've been writing and it looks like it might work -- I just need to build the model and--"

"Have you spoken to Lucy Nikoredes recently? No," Rosomon interrupted himself, "of course you haven't, she joined us last September, but you were a little busy at the time. No, she has been working on a project that has some interesting parallels with your own work."

"Parallels?" JD said warily.

"Oh, she's not reproducing your data, her expertise is hippocampal learning, mapping, topographical mathematics, that sort of thing. But you should find that your work will mesh rather nicely with hers when you come to build something that can navigate for itself."

"My reasoning software and her mapping software?" he asked hesitantly, still not entirely happy with the idea of sharing his work with someone else.

"Exactly! Now," Rosomon gathered his papers and stuffed them under one arm and ushered JD from the room, "if you'd like to come with me, I'll introduce you to Miss Nikoredes, and a couple of other people whose work might interest you."

JD trotted happily after the professor, submerging himself back into the life of the department with an ease that would have startled him, if he had thought about it at all. He ignored Morgan and his cronies, who were lurking near the vending machines in the student lounge. He had a class in half an hour, and he wouldn't have to see them again for the rest of the day with any luck.

Two hours later his wrist was aching from keeping notes, and he was starting to think about lunch.

"Hey! JD! Where the hell did you come from?!" A woman's voice yelled across the road at him, and he whirled. He knew that shriek.

"Casey!" He grinned at the small red headed woman sprinting across the road to him. "Good to see you!"

She slapped his upper arm hard. "Where've you *been*?"

He shrugged, and she thumped him again. "Don't give me that, JD, you *vanished*, what *happened*? You went all quiet on us, and then you just disappeared. Not a word. Not even an owl."

"Sorry, K." He smiled awkwardly.

"You don't do that, you know, not to friends, right? All I got was rumors, and you know, Morgan and his dumbass bunch of morons were trying to tell me you'd gone found yourself a sugar daddy, or a 'source', trying to tell me you were doing drugs and shit, and man, that's so not cool, so, come on, give, what happened?"

JD paused for a long moment and she dropped a hand onto his sleeve.

"JD, what is it?" Her voice suddenly went from strident to gentle and he was horrified to find tears stinging at his eyes again.

"Mom," he had to stop and clear his throat. "Mom, she got diagnosed with stomach cancer, a while back."

"Oh, JD, honey. Why didn't you say something?"

He offered a half hearted smile. "I, I don't know. I didn't have time to think."

"Is she--" She stopped.

"No." He shook his head and closed his eyes briefly. Her arms wrapped around him and she hugged him tightly. A sob caught in his throat and he gulped. He wasn't going to cry here. Not in front of the student building, in the middle of the road, with everyone staring at him. But no one had hugged him after she died. No one apart from Ezra, and that was different.

The thought of Ezra steadied him and he lifted his head, a stoic expression on his face, trying to control the grief before it ran away with him again. She loosened her arms and looked anxiously at him.

"Babe, you okay? You shoulda *said*, I wouldn't have gone on at you. Oh, JD, honey, I'm so sorry."

"She, it was in May. I've been trying to get things together since them. You know."

"But you're okay, right? Come on," she dragged him away from the road to a relatively quiet patch of grass. "Sit down, tell me all about it."

"Not much to tell." He dropped to the grass cross legged and stared at his backpack on the ground in front of him. "It kinda spread. Real fast. There wasn't anything -- she, they said she was terminal in February."

"You dropped out." Casey grasped the timing instantly.

"Talked to Professor Sanders, and Rosomon. They agreed to give me a leave of absence or whatever they call it." He tried to smile. "They were so cool, K. Rosomon said to call him if I needed anything. Professor Sanders gave me a bunch of ideas about people to talk to and stuff."

"But you didn't talk to any of them, did you, babe?" she said quietly. "Oh, you *idiot*. One phone call. Just one phone call, and I'd've been right there. You have no idea how worried I was. How worried we all were."

"I--" he met her eyes, completely shocked that she was so distressed. "I didn't think."

"Well *that's* not news, JD," she shoved at him in a friendly fashion and he shoved back.

"Shut up."

"You shut up."

"Oh god, Casey."

Instantly her arms were around him, and they sat together, his head buried in her shoulder for a long time, Casey brushing her hand over his back again and again, murmuring nonsense softly over his head.

"You're coming home with me, okay?" she said some time later.

"Can't." He sat back and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Sure you can. I'll call Aunt Nettie and she'll set you up in the spare room. You aren't going to be alone any more, y'hear. I'll call her now." She rummaged deep in her bag, ignoring his protests.

"K, Casey, no, please, I can't! I've got -- I won't be alone!"

She paused dialing, and looked quizzically at him. "Huh?"

"I'm not alone."

"But you -- oh." She reddened. "*Oh*."

"Yeah." He cursed his fair skin as he blushed too.

"JD," she started hesitantly, tugging at strands of grass as though they were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Yeah."

"Is that -- I mean, um, with your Mom and all, is that a -- you know, did you think it through?"

JD grinned at the convoluted sentence and shook his head. "I thought about it a lot. You might say I've been thinking about nothing else for about two months."

"Are you doing it for the right reasons?"

JD smiled at her, absurdly touched by her concern, and he dropped a light kiss on her cheek. "K, he's about the only thing I'm really sure I'm doing for the right reasons."

She smiled back brightly, "So?"

"So?"

"Come on, *tell*."

"His name's Ezra Standish, and I met him -- "

"Standish!"

JD stopped. "Yeah. Why, do you know him?"

"Stuck up rich boy."

JD tried to think of a way to answer that, but was saved from having to come up with a reply when she went scarlet and clapped a hand over her mouth.

"God! I'm sorry! He's your boyfriend, and I'm-- I. Damn!"

"You kiss your aunt with that mouth, Casey Wells?" JD teased.

"You just surprised me."

"So, how do you know Ez?"

"Oh no, you first, I asked first."

JD smiled. "We met a while back. A long while back in a club. And we kinda exchanged email addresses, and then he emailed me at a bad time, and he was -- " he stopped, torn between not lying to one of his best friends, and not telling her the truth either.

"I get it," she said with some difficulty. "He was there for you."

JD shrugged. "He reminded me, reminds me, that there's a whole world out there of things that aren't about, oh, you know." He stopped, lost for words, and she nodded.

"When Mom and Dad died, I used to get Aunt Nettie to take me to this theme park. I was just a kid, you know? We'd do the rides, even though she thought they were silly, and she hated them. But--" She met his eyes, understanding deep in them.

"You forgot."

"For a bit," she agreed.

"So, how do you know him?"

"Who? Oh, Ezra?" She grinned abruptly. "I better be careful. You gonna beat me up if I bad mouth your boyfriend?"

"Nah. You punch meaner than me." He nudged her. "Quit stalling."

"I don't know if I should," she hedged.

"K..."

"Oh, okay, but I didn't tell you this, okay?"

"Sure." He leaned forward.

"The farm was kinda in trouble. And the bank was gonna close up on us."

"Foreclose?"

"Yeah. Anyway. Aunt Nettie's got this guy she used to teach, years ago. I think he reminds her of Dad." She shrugged. "Anyway, he found out, and he got Mr. Standish to put up the money until the spring. Once we'd had the calving we came about and we paid him back, but he was just...." She stopped again, clearly trying to come up with an acceptable description.

"Just spit it out, Wells, "JD urged, grinning.

"Oh, he uses all these big words like he's better'n us, and he wouldn't do a lick of work, 'a gentleman doesn't do menial labor'. A gentleman doesn't *sweat*, like honest people, either, I s'pose."

"I don't know about that," JD murmured and Casey's mouth dropped open.

"JD Dunne!" She swatted him and then fell over laughing. "You're bad."

"To the bone," he straightened his jacket and tipped a mock hat at her. "Bad to the bone, missy."

"But you -- he's different with you? He's okay?"

JD smiled, and Casey's eyes warmed. "I can see he is, just from that look on your face there."

"He's kind, and funny, and generous, and --" he grinned, "well, you don't need to know any more."

Casey giggled. "You're happy."

"More than I thought I'd ever be again," he said seriously.

"Well, I guess I can forgive him then."

"I'm sure he's grateful."

"Oh, *you*." She scrambled her feet under her. "I'm gonna be late."

"I've got a class with Marques." He stood, brushing grass from his jeans and scooped up his backpack and helmet.

"Hey, how cool is it that I knew your boyfriend! Small world!"

JD grinned. "Who was that guy you were talking about?"

"Who? Aunt Nettie's blue-eyed boy?" JD nodded and she continued, "Vin Tanner."

"I met him on Friday!"

"Oh *cool*. Isn't he just the *cutest* ever?"

"I think I have to refuse to answer that on the grounds of self-incrimination."

"Oh, you can tell *me*," she batted her lashes angelically at him.

"You! You are *eeeeevil*. Worse than evil!"

She stuck out her tongue and he smirked.

"Later, K," he called.

"Sure! You got my number?"

"Sure have," JD laughed at her scowl. "I've got your phone number too."

"I'll call, okay?" He jogged away, waving back at her. He was going to be late, so he didn't really pay any attention to the tall gray haired man watching from the steps of the pure sciences building. Not even when he brushed past him on the way into the mathematics department. He certainly didn't notice the man turn around and watch him as he disappeared into the building.

"Mr. Torrence?"

The gray haired man turned back to lift an eyebrow at the flunky calling his name by his car.

"Yes, Michael?"

"We're going to be late for your five o'clock appointment, sir?"

"Reschedule. And get me everything you can find on the boy."

* * *


	12. Tessellae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one reacts quite the way expected. But that's what happens when you don't know the whole story...

Ezra repressed a scowl until it was just the tiniest twitch at the far edge of his jaw as the 'ping' of another email sounded from his computer. It could be legitimate.

It wasn't.

Yet another resort advising him of their 'inclusive' policies, complete with photograph of a pair of smiling women leaning against each other, both wearing white tuxedos and matching rings.

His eyes narrowed, and he ignored the snort that escaped Wilmington. The man didn't actually say a word, but his silence was nearly as innuendo laden as any comment that he was manfully repressing. He was vaguely surprised by his own lack of anger at the continuous teasing. Initially he'd felt edgy, uncertain of the intent behind the cheerful jibes and emails, but less and less so, as he realised there was no malice behind the teasing. And while admittedly annoying, it was also bizarrely comforting to discover that these men knew him well enough to recognize his mood even through his blandest expression.

Nonetheless, he was not going to comment, and he was definitely not going to let his traitorous sense of humor get the better of him. The last thing they needed was any kind of encouragement. He ducked his head behind his computer screen and allowed himself a tiny smile. If anyone saw it, he could pretend he was just pleased at something in the Lasater file.

It would even have the advantage of being almost true. With any luck he would get a breakthrough by the end of the day. All the signs boded well for Sukie McPherson rolling over on her former boyfriend; it was surely only a matter of time. He smirked a little. Of course, Lasater was not aware that she was a 'former' anything. Not yet. Hell had no fury like a woman scorned. And Sukie McPherson was not one to take infidelity with equanimity. The grin widened. If Mr. Lasater wanted to have his cake and eat it, he really should have kept both delightful females better hidden from each other.

Or perhaps more accurately, better hidden from a trio of agents with long range lenses and a slight disregard for the finer points of privacy law. Buck's surveillance skills were everything that a man with a secret to be exposed could want. Or not.

The photographs had been more than enough to stir Ms McPherson to a calculating fury this morning. A little pushing, a promise of immunity and a new identity should Mr. Lasater prove a more vicious man than they expected, and she had seriously wavered in her loyalty to the man. She hadn't given them what they wanted, not right then, but she had left with the photographs and a fulminating sense of betrayal.

He gave it two hours at the most. In the meantime.... The hundred or so extra emails in his inbox required his attention. The emails he had been disregarding all day, simply shifting them into the folder simply entitled 'Later'. Documentation on countries allowing gay marriage. Letter after advertisement after email from resorts promising the perfect honeymoon, the perfect wedding -- he was going to kill them.

That would certainly stop the damn sniggering.

Jackson was probably responsible for the excess of information about -- oh dear god. He closed the email, with pictures, and tried hard to think about cold things. Ice, snow, his mother's face... Cruel and unusual wielding of medical knowledge was clearly an unfair advantage.

Larabee was in on it too. The barely discernable shit-eating half smile which had greeted him when he had first arrived at the office this morning had been a neon sign declaring the man's amusement. Of course, at the time he hadn't known what he was amused about, just knew that, directed at him, it was an expression that could only mean trouble.

That was the first clue that his team mates had decided the best way to demonstrate their acceptance of himself and John was to pull his leg until it was in imminent peril of separating at the hip. That, and the half dozen emails addressed to Mr. C Larabee, at Ezra's email address.

Ezra paused, his finger hovering over delete, and instead transferred them to a subfolder: 'Later_CL'. There were a number of things in there already, and one day, sooner or later...

Ezra allowed an amused smile to twitch at his lips. "Ah. The jealousy of those experiencing the sting of loneliness," he murmured with pointed cruelty, and suddenly the eyes that had been half on him all day snapped back to their own work.

He pulled out the Lasater file and idly flipped through it. There was very little he could do until Sukie contacted him. The preparatory work was looking good, and all he needed was one last piece -- actual hard evidence to tie up the case and put Lasater away for a couple of years. He grimaced. It wasn't likely to be more than fifteen months, unless the man resisted arrest, but the government would get their pound of flesh. He brightened at the thought that the impounded liquor might possibly be available, and then shook his head. Someone would probably tip it all into the Denver waste filtration system, with nary a thought for the years of patient maturation.

He heard his agency issued cell phone chirp, and a shark's grin crossed his face for a moment. He dialed into the voice mail and found two messages, one from Sukie, Lasater's erstwhile girlfriend, and his contact into the business. And one from Lasater's favorite middleman, suggesting a meet for the following week. He scribbled down the details and carefully saved the messages. They too would be evidence.

He leaned back in his chair as he put the phone down, steepling his fingers and resting his feet on the desk, crossed at the ankle.

Buck was the first to break. "Well?"

He looked around and was well satisfied by the various looks of annoyance, amusement and impatience on his colleagues' faces.

"We are in business, gentlemen," he said smugly. "Ezekiel McKenzie will be meeting Mr. Lasater to discuss eight crates of fine French brandy next Thursday at ten, at a location to be arranged closer to the time." His smirk widened into a grin. "To avoid detection by 'adverse authorities'," he quoted.

"Gee, does that mean we ain't invited?" Buck asked, all wide-eyed innocence.

Vin grinned. "Guess we better not disappoint him, then," he said calmly.

"On the contrary, Mr. Tanner," Ezra shook his head. "I sincerely hope Mr. Lasater is *deeply* disappointed."

They laughed, and then the team bent their heads to their work once more, Ezra starting the work that would enable him to dictate the terms of the upcoming meeting. He spared a moment to be pleased that with the breakthrough contact made this early, he could almost certainly leave on time, or even a little early. John wouldn't be home till eight, he had said this morning. A little preparation time for him then. He smiled, and started making plans.

\-------------------------

JD yawned as he pulled into the driveway. Late classes just sucked raw eggs. Ezra's car was already there, and he carefully leaned the Kawasaki towards the wall, well away from any possibility of the bike falling onto the Jag. He rolled his shoulders and flinched as the right one pulled. Too much writing hunched over a computer in an auditorium. He rummaged in his pockets for his keys and unlocked the door, then paused, looked at the key still in the lock, and smiled. Ezra had trusted him with so much stuff, but something about having his own key to his house left him feeling warm; wanted.

"Delightful though the finish is," JD jumped as Ezra's somewhat sardonic voice came over the intercom to his right, "I am sure that you would be even more appreciative of the inside of my humble abode."

JD grinned and opened the door. "Most people would just tell me to get inside already, but no, I get to be 'appreciative of his humble abode'," he mimicked softly.

"That, my friend, is an absolutely atrocious attempt at a Georgia accent. I beg you, desist." Ezra appeared from the lounge, and the sound of classical music followed him.

JD snickered and wrapped his arms around the slim waist. "Desist? You sound like one of those heroines in a Regency drama."

"And what," Ezra kissed him lightly, "pray tell, would you know, good sir, about Regency dramas?" He grinned mockingly at JD, who shrugged.

"Mom used to read 'em." He pulled away from Ezra and sighed when the man tugged him back, and gave him a quick hug. He laughed softly, "When she got so she couldn't read 'em, I'd read them to her." He met Ezra's eyes and smiled, a little painfully, at the memory. "Complete with bad southern accent."

Ezra's arms tightened around him, and he leaned in, resting his head against his shoulder.

"How was school?" Ezra asked quietly, after a while.

"Good. I'm not as far behind as I thought I was going to be."

"Good."

JD lifted his head and grinned at him, "I met an old friend."

"Really?"

"Mmm." JD tried hard to look casual.

"A good friend?"

JD nodded. "One of the best," he agreed, he couldn't help the glimmer of laughter as he remembered what Casey had said in that first unguarded moment when she had found out who his boyfriend was.

"Well, that's, ah, good." Ezra eyed him keenly, and added, "Whatever it is, you may as well say it. You are no kind of actor."

"She knows you too." Something flickered in Ezra's eyes, and JD wondered what was going through his head, but carried on. "It was so funny when I told her about you."

"Really," Ezra drawled, "who is this paragon?"

"Casey Wells."

Ezra blinked.

"She looked like a stuck pig when I told her," JD laughed, "Kinda like you look right now, actually." He pulled away and almost dodged the swat Ezra aimed at him.

"Impertinent brat," Ezra said. "I dread to think what the girl had to say about me."

JD smiled. "Depends on whether you were listening to her words or her meaning." He brushed a kiss over Ezra's cheek. "You're a good man, Ezra Standish."

"Please! There's no need for gratuitous insults," he protested, but JD saw the warm smile in his eyes, and ignored the words.

"How was your day?"

Ezra shrugged. "Filled with matters criminal and boring."

"Paperwork?"

"Preparation. We -- I trust you understand that I cannot tell you much?"

JD nodded. "I wouldn't say anything to anyone."

Ezra's smile warped, and he gently pointed out, "You just told someone who might as well have been a complete stranger that I was your boyfriend. In point of fact, you outed me to her, and anyone else who might have been listening."

"Oh. Oh shit!" JD was horrified, he hadn't even thought-- "I didn't think, I -- I'm sorry."

"That you didn't think is only too apparent," he replied with unexpected sharpness, and JD flinched.

"God, I'm sorry Ez, I just, I thought." He stopped and swallowed his words. "I'm so sorry, Ezra." He met Ezra's eyes squarely, and stopped, waiting.

Ezra shook his head and turned away. "I believe I mentioned that I did not find it advisable to have my personal life choices generally known."

"Yeah, well, kinda. But Ez, you never *said* don't tell anyone. And Casey's an old friend -- a good friend. And, well, I had to say *something* when she started insisting that I come home with her."

"I suppose merely saying you had a place to stay would not have sufficed?"

JD stared at him incredulously. "Have you *met* Nettie Wells?"

"A fair point, I suppose." Ezra looked at him, "but in future?"

"I'll keep shtumm." JD frowned. "Didn't anybody know?"

Ezra shrugged, "Not because I told them."

"Wasn't that kinda lonely?"

"I bought dinner home with me," Ezra ignored the question. "It will just require heating. In the oven, not the microwave, so it will be half an hour." He walked away into the kitchen, and by the time JD had removed his backpack and coat, Ezra had already started the food warming.

"Ez--" JD stopped; he had no idea what to say. "I promise I won't say anything."

Ezra shrugged again, and JD's lips tightened. He wasn't used to having people reject his apologies. And he hated having to make them, but Casey knew he was bi; she'd have drawn the correct conclusion the moment he said he was living with Ezra no matter whether he'd made it clear that they were sleeping together or not. In fact, he tried to remember exactly what was said. He was pretty sure he hadn't said anything, had simply not denied her conclusion. Not that that would make Ezra feel any better by the looks of things. He watched as the man pulled out china and cutlery and set the table, the two places kitty corner to each other.

"Would you get me the orange juice," Ezra said into the silence, and JD hurried to grab it from the fridge, and a couple of glasses from the cupboard. "Get whatever you want to drink." The fridge was full, a contrast to last week's near emptiness, and he hesitated before grabbing the milk jug and pouring himself a large glass. He added some chocolate syrup and stirred, trying not to hit the thin glass with the teaspoon after the first chime made Ezra close his eyes as though in pain.

JD frowned. "Ez?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, John?" The man sounded worn out, and JD could have kicked himself.

"Are you okay?"

Ezra smiled at him, but there was no real enthusiasm in it. "I'm fine."

"Cause you look like you've got a headache or something."

"I said I'm fine."

"Okay. Cause if you want some Tylenol or something, just say."

"If I should need any analgesic, I assure you I shall have no hesitation in taking the required medication," Ezra said sharply and JD put his hands up.

"Fine. Whatever. Look, I'm gonna put my stuff away, okay, check my emails or something." Keep out of your way, he thought, but didn't say. "Jeez, take a chill pill, dude," he muttered as he stalked out of the kitchen. "Sorry for *caring*."

Ten minutes later he'd already forgotten about the argument, immersed in catching up with a flaming argument on one of the biking lists about the right terms for parts of a particular machine. He was torn between deleting the lot, and reading. He opened the next one and shook his head at the steamed reply to the previous email. "Oh, now, that's just not right," he exclaimed, "Godwin's law, lady, you lose."

"JD?"

"Hey, Ezra. Some people are such idiots."

"I hear that," Ezra's voice was dry enough that JD looked up at him.

"Hey, I didn't mean you."

"I know."

"I didn't mean me either," he added with an apologetic smile, "but I should have. I'm sorry Ez. I can call her and ask her not to say anything."

"It can wait," Ezra said peaceably. "I overreacted."

"No, you didn't. It didn't even occur to me that you weren't out. I mean, the guys all seemed to know--"

"Only because I forgot myself and made it clear when on the phone to you."

"Oh." It was with some difficulty JD asked, "Would you rather they hadn't found out?" He wanted to ask, and didn't quite dare ask if Ezra was ashamed of him, ashamed of being queer.

"It is of no moment what I would prefer. The fact is that--" he stopped and took a deep breath. For the first time since the moment they had first met, JD saw the man's iron self-confidence waver. "The fact remains that they do know. As does Miss Wells, and in all probability Mrs. Wells is now also cognizant of my tendencies."

There was a long silence. JD couldn't think of anything to make this right, except... "Do you want me to leave?"

"No!" Ezra said sharply. "I am merely having some, some difficulties in accustoming myself to the thought that perhaps it is-- that I can allow them to--"

"That you can be out and the world won't fall in on you?" JD asked quietly, and stood, reaching for his hands. They were cold and he held them securely, hoping the warmth of his own would relax the tension he felt in them. "My Mom figured it out before I did. Did I tell you that?"

"No."

JD smiled ruefully. "I panicked when I threw my first boner for one of the jocks at high school. I was thirteen, he was seventeen, and we were in the same math class." He grimaced, "Which didn't help matters of course."

"I wouldn't be thirteen again for all the money in the world," Ezra said with cautious sympathy and JD nodded.

"Me neither. I panicked for weeks about what I was going to do. Dreaming was okay. And not wanting to hang out with girls, that was okay too. But that--"

"That made it real."

"Yeah. Mom kept asking me if there was something wrong, and in the end I told her. Actually I shouted it at her. Told her she wouldn't be getting any grandchildren because I was a fag." JD paused, then smiled, "And all she said was, 'Don't be crude. And besides, there's always adoption, darling.'"

Ezra chuffed a faint laugh. "My mother told me to keep my mouth shut and never mention it again. I think she thought it was a phase I would grow out of. Eventually she gave up on that, and decided to try to manipulate me using it." His face hardened and became distant. "And when that backfired, she decided to apologise by turning into the yenta from hell."

"What did she do?"

Ezra shook his head. "I have no intention of reliving that sordid experience. Suffice it to say that when she was arrested for hate crimes and inciting hate crimes, I did not post bail."

"Jesus, Ez," JD dragged Ezra into an impulsive hug. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Ezra sounded strange. "I think I will probably survive the experience. As long as my co-workers desist from their current amusements, that is."

"What did they do to you?" JD asked fiercely, tightening his arms around Ezra, "Ez, if they--"

Ezra was shaking and for a horrible moment JD thought that his lover was crying, until he heard the chuckles escaping him.

"I have been sent a fine collection of honeymoon destinations catering to the proclivities of people like ourselves."

"What?"

"And some fascinating documentation on locales that offer gay marriages."

"What?!"

"And some rather entertainin' literature on the positions possible for those able to avail themselves of two penises in a relationship."

"You're kidding."

"I am not." Ezra leaned back and grinned into JD's stunned eyes. "I must admit I believe I underestimated my colleagues."

"So, you don't mind that I outed you?"

"I believe I will get used to the idea. However--"

"I know. I won't tell anyone else." He hesitated. "I mentioned to the Dean that I had a boyfriend in the ATF."

"And what did he say to that?"

"That I should tell Morgan to get his still off campus."

"I think I shall pretend I did *not* hear you tell an agent of the department for *Alcohol*, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives that you know the location of an illegal still."

"Oops," JD laughed. "I don't care if you do shake him down. Morgan's a homophobic prick."

"Would you *like* me to hear that statement?" Ezra said seriously.

JD hesitated, then shook his head. "Nah. He's just a student. There's probably hundreds of kids like him, brewing up in the basement. Besides, he'll be graduating in a few months, and I won't have to put up with his shit any more."

"What kind of shit?"

"It's nothing. Just stupid, ignorant name calling." JD shrugged. "I can live with that."

"You shouldn't have to." Ezra told him flatly. "Anytime you want to dispose of him, just let me know."

JD pressed a fond kiss to his lips. "Thank you. But I don't need my big, bad boyfriend fighting my battles for me."

"Big, bad boyfriend?"

JD waggled his eyebrows and slid a hand down and round, to squeeze him meaningfully. "Big enough for my purposes."

"I came in to tell you dinner was ready," Ezra pushed against him lazily.

JD widened his eyes and made his lower lip tremble. "You mean I have to wait for the make up sex?"

"Patience is, after all, a virtue, you repulsive brat," and he slapped JD on the ass, "the sooner we eat, though, the sooner--"

"Got you! Come on!" JD turned him and pushed him towards the kitchen, both of them shoving each other cheerfully as they went.

* * *

  


### 


	13. Subtemen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.

"I was thinkin' we oughtta get these over to DPD, maybe let 'em deal with the case," Tanner said slowly, a glimmer of a smile in the back of his eyes. He crossed his ankles, one hip perched precariously on a corner of Larabee's desk. It was getting late, the sun long since set, and the lights of Denver twinkled in the orange tinted haze.

Ezra had left dead on time, same as every night this week, to a raucous chorus of comments about his new-found boyfriend. Nathan hadn't been much later, Buck had disappeared off to get ready for a date, and Josiah was deep in meetings with Psych, doing analysis of Lasater before the upcoming meet. It was just him and Larabee, and from where he was sitting, it was pretty much looking like just him left in the building.

"Sure." Larabee nodded absently. His thoughts were anywhere but on what Tanner had just said.

Vin's smile flickered and he carried on, "An' I was thinking if you'd just sign off on this visit to the Bahamas, me 'n' Ez thought we could catch some sun, all expenses paid--"

"No way, Standish," Chris said automatically to the phrase 'all expenses paid', and then stopped. "What are you talking about?"

Tanner grinned. "Well, way I see it, it's my job to make sure you don't get shorn next time you walk out of here."

Chris looked at him blankly.

"Looking like a lil woolly sheep, off woolgatherin' like that."

Chris shook his head, a long suffering look on his face. "Shut up, bird brain, and have a look at this." He pushed a sheet of paper across his desk to Vin, who flicked a glance over it.

Vin's brows twitched together as he read the name at the top of the first page. "You sure?"

Chris sat back in his chair with a sigh. "Yeah."

"He ain't gonna be happy when he finds out."

"I can live with that."

"Turning into an old hen."

"Shut up and read."

Vin snickered quietly but said nothing, instead reading over the document. "You got anything that goes with this?"

"Figured that wasn't any of your business."

"Fine time to start worrying about his privacy, after you've gone to all the trouble of getting a full on report on the kid."

"Not that. At the end."

Vin scanned down the densely printed page, and paused. "'Wondering what this John Dunne has been up to -- you're the second LE type to request a full profile on him this month.'," he read out, and looked up. "Ezra?"

"Maybe. Thing is, I went back to the research people, and they couldn't identify who requested the other search."

Tanner frowned, and Larabee nodded. They both knew that within law enforcement there was very few ways to hide a search, and even fewer reasons to try.

"Under investigation?"

Larabee shrugged. "Normally I'd ask Ez to look into it, but--"

Vin nodded slowly. "Ya want one of us to have a look."

"Can ya?"

"How hard can it be?" Vin shrugged.

A pained look crossed Chris's face.

"You got those figures?"

Chris handed him a thick, stapled bundle of papers.

"Shit. You didn't say anything about turning into a computer monkey," Vin grumbled, but took the papers anyway, flicking through them. He stopped and flicked back to a particular page. "Fucking hell!"

"You got to the part where he inherits a cool half a mill from an offshore trust, then."

"Shit..." Tanner re-read the page carefully, and looked up.

"Yeah."

"Did they--"

"Nope."

"Damn. Who did he have to kill to get that kind of money?" Vin murmured, reading more closely through the financial figures relating to the recent history of one John David Dunne. A steady gaze rested on his face until he looked up, and met it. Chris's expression was grim.

"That's exactly what I'd like to know," he said very quietly.

"Shit! You're shitting me! No way! That kid -- no *way*!"

"We don't know anything about him, except he turned up in the middle of last week and moved in with Ezra at extremely short notice."

"His story about the bar --"

Chris's lips turned down and he shook his head. Vin lowered the papers to his lap and looked away.

"You didn't believe it either," he said flatly.

Chris stood and walked away from his desk, stopping by the window to stare out through the twilight at Denver's downtown. "I'd like to. God knows I'd like to."

"Ez is really fond of that kid."

"I know."

"Seemed like a nice kid."

"I know."

"You think Ez knows what his game is?"

"Damn right he knows. That story had Standish written all over it. No, he knows. He just ain't telling."

"If Research can't identify who asked for the previous search, it could be Ez. Be his style."

Larabee shook his head. "Chet reckons that it was someone external."

"We do that?" Vin asked incredulously.

"No. We don't."

Vin looked down at the papers, and said slowly, "So, we got a kid with a fortune that can't be backtracked--"

"That conveniently pays all his outstanding debts," Chris interrupted.

"Sleeping with our best undercover agent... and someone else is investigating him. Someone outside the agency. An' they don't want anyone to know about it."

Their eyes met.

"Shit." Vin said again. "*Shit*."

"This is between the two of us, okay?"

"What the hell do you expect me to do with this?"

Chris sighed and leaned his hands against the thick safety glass of the window. "Whatever you can, Vin. Tell me the kid is legit. Tell me Standish hasn't compromised himself or the job for a bit of tail. Tell me -- hell, tell me where the money came from, and who's looking for JD."

"Ya don't want much, cowboy," Vin said dubiously. "I'm your sniper, not yer research guy."

"I can't--"

"Nah," he waved a hand, dismissing Larabee's protest, "I know why you can't ask anyone else. I'm just sayin', it ain't going to happen overnight." Buck already emotionally compromised, both he and Nathan worried about JD's apparent youth; Josiah on Ezra's side as ever, eager to believe that his young friend was finally finding happiness. No. There was only him -- and he wasn't entirely sure that he was going to be as impartial as Chris would like.

"Thanks, pard," he smiled with relief at his second in command.

Vin didn't smile back. "Guess the fastest way to find out about him is go to the source."

Chris looked up sharply. "Vin--"

"Unless he's a faster draw than me, I'm thinking I'm pretty safe to talk to the kid." He stood and tucked the paperwork under one arm. "I'll look after this for ya."

"Thanks, Vin."

"Wait till I've got something to tell ya before you start thanking me," he said softly, and headed out of the office.

* * *

Ezra sighed softly, and reached awkwardly behind him to drag the covers over them   
both. John was already deep asleep, his head tucked under Ezra's chin, one arm   
draped over his waist, one leg folded around his knees, holding him firmly in   
place. He shivered momentarily until the sheets and comforter warmed him, and   
was charmed as JD's arm tightened on him, snuggling closer. He curled in closer,   
and slipped both arms around the young man's back.

He could really get used to this feeling of warm contentment, and yet.... And yet, his muscles were wound as tight as though they were still at odds, even though after dinner they'd made a kind of peace.

And John had been right about make-up sex. He arched his back luxuriously at the memory, and smiled wryly. Their first argument. He was so proud. He shivered, thinking how easily JD had told Miss Wells something he had never flat out admitted to anyone but himself.

Maybe he was oversensitive -- an accusation that JD had refrained from making, but that others had not. Given time, no doubt the boy would think of it too.

Maybe it wasn't the kid. Maybe it was the job. He sighed, and tried to roll away, get space to think, but John wouldn't let him go, and he had to content himself with shifting a little, and settling back into his close embrace.

In three days he was going to walk into Lasater's warehouse, set him up, and arrest him.

He stared up at the unseen ceiling. Nothing they had learned about the man suggested he was much more than a penny-ante kind of smuggler. Not someone who was going to go out, all guns blazing. It was about as safe as these things got. So why was he so damn tense?

It wasn't that he didn't trust anyone, he thought, and hesitated. Okay, so it was that he didn't trust anyone, not for certain things. He trusted his colleagues implicitly in matters concerning his and their lives. But it made both his and their lives less hazardous if he kept his preferences to himself. He snorted softly, his embrace tightening on the man in his arms. Preferences. Such a civilized way to describe something that in its time had been thrown in his face in the vilest terms possible.

The FBI had taught him more than just law enforcement. Taught him more than mere vocabulary even. Taught him with ostracism and criticism, with deliberate impediments to his career, and eventually, when his attackers were sure that he would never complain or retaliate, physical torment. It was no comfort at all to remember that when they had driven him too far, he had sued them, jointly and severally, all the taunts and hazing, recorded faithfully, the injuries documented, however minor. It was no comfort to remember that he had won.

He breathed deeply, trying to stop his old anger from rising. The smell of their lovemaking was redolent in the air, and he smiled as the scent filled his lungs, tucking his face into the curve between John's neck and shoulder, placing tiny kisses on his pale throat. He'd much rather think of this.

He licked delicately at the hollow where John's collar bones met his throat, rubbed his stubbled face slowly over the fine, fair skin. Come morning, John would have a fine patch of beard burn there to remind him of his lover. His eyes drifted shut and he let his head rest on his chest. Lover.

Not any of those other words.

He didn't want to think of it now. Now, everything was different. He had money -- an out of court settlement meant he never had to never work again. He'd thought about doing just that.

God knows Maude would have been delighted if he had taken the tersely worded suggestion from his erstwhile superior officer that he should consider 'moving on'. Instead, something made him applied for a transfer to another agency, any agency. And Chris Larabee had trampled all over any number of people's feelings and supposed seniority and dragged him without ceremony to Colorado, where he had installed him as undercover agent in his RME (Colorado) Task Force. He chuckled under his breath.

"Y'okay?" John's sleepy mumble made him smile, and he pressed a damp kiss on the corner of his mouth as John turned his head to meet him.

"Fine. Go to sleep." He waited as JD wriggled until he was wrapped around Ezra, one hand moving in ever slower circles on his back. He shook his head with a grin more open than he would ever show in public. He closed his eyes, relishing the warm proof of John's physical affection. He wanted to sleep, but it seemed that, once started, he couldn't turn off his train of thought, was going to have to follow through to the end.

Chris Larabee's lack of anything resembling tact and diplomacy infuriated him, but that didn't stop him being grateful when it was directed at others.

When Larabee had promised a new start, he'd jumped at it, and hadn't cared about anything else. For all Larabee knew of course, he didn't care about Team Seven either. Not at first. He wasn't going to be taken in again.

It had taken him the best part of his first year with Team Seven to realize that not only had Larabee kept his word, but had kept his silence. No one knew. Or if they knew, it seemed that either they didn't care, or that they were too afraid of Larabee to act on it. Either way, his initial caution slowly eased. He no longer pretended to flirt with women, or to have had dates. His standing comment -- that a gentleman never kissed and told was more than enough to keep them from troubling him, and he was still surprised that this was the case.

Nonetheless, he stayed careful, discreet. Sensible. This freedom to stretch his wings could surely only go so far. A shiver ran up his spine, and he shuddered. All those precautions, those careful rationalizations, and here was John, so easily admitting to a friend that he was gay, that he was living with another man. By implication, dear God, he hoped it was only by implication, that he was having sex with another man.

He stared over John's shoulder at the bedroom curtains as though he had never seen such a thing in his life. He probably had shared far too many details of their bedroom activities with her. Good Lord. How was he going to ever face Miss Wells again. Or Mrs. Wells. Or, and he felt the blood draining from his face, Mr. Tanner.

"Don't be ridiculous, Standish," he muttered and shook himself. He lifted his head far enough to peer into John's sleeping face. Maybe he should just check with the kid how much he had actually shared...

JD mumbled unintelligibly, and rolling them both, buried his face in Ezra's shoulder.

Ezra froze. He'd wondered before if the others knew. He'd thought not, they'd never said anything, but they hadn't blinked when it became clear that he was dating a man. Not Larabee, a man of strong opinions, nor Wilmington who always had something to say about everyone's dating habits, nor Sanchez, the preacher's son, or ...

What if they knew?

What if they all knew?

What if they'd known all along and hadn't cared?

He stared, wide-eyed, into the dark. Had he really been so careful that he had been blind?

Mr. Larabee knew. There was no way the man didn't know, even with the confidentiality agreements that the FBI had included in the settlement. It was arguable whether Larabee would consider confiding in Tanner to be breaking a secret. What Larabee knew, it was a reasonable assumption that Tanner also knew. Maybe Wilmington too. Maybe all of them.

They hadn't said anything, not by word, or action had they ever referenced his dating habits to be other than -- he blinked. When Vin had asked some three weeks ago he'd asked if Ezra was dating. No mention of gender. He'd assumed they didn't know. He frowned, meticulously going back through their interactions over the last two weeks, and then further back.

Good God. And he had thought them obtuse.

With remarkably little fanfare, his world tilted and happily resettled itself.

He closed his eyes briefly, and breathed in, resting his face in JD's soft hair. They'd known. Of course they had known. They'd been waiting for him to trust them enough to say something. Other than that, it made no difference. He only had to think of Josiah calmly offering relationship counseling despite knowing that the relationship in question was homosexual.

Perhaps it was time to offer them some trust in return. He smiled, and almost without thinking nuzzled a kiss into John's hair. Let the lad be as free and easy as he wanted to be. If he said it was going to be okay, then perhaps he should try it. Perhaps if he had been less secretive in the first place. He shook his head and sighed. He had made the best choices he could. No recriminations. No regrets.

Maybe it would be okay if he pushed things to go his way a little more, and the Agency way a little less. In the ordinary course of events, he would be following guidelines that someone off in the psych section had put together without ever meeting either himself or Lasater.

The Lasater bust suddenly seemed far less fearsome. If the team was willing to trust him then perhaps he could try moving outside that neat little box he had built for himself.

His mind kept returning to that word. Safe.

Lasater was a safe meet.

What if he ran it *his* way instead?

It was a safe meet. He knew Lasater. Knew the set up. and he would be briefing the team tomorrow morning. He could change things around to suit him and no one would know. Well, until the reports were in, and presented with a fait accompli, and a successful one at that, Travis and Larabee would have no reason to complain. Which wouldn't stop them of course, but it might make them think a little harder about how they could better utilize his talents.

He nuzzled into JD's neck and smiled as a drowsy mumble was followed by a soft kiss. He had a couple of days to think about it. In the meantime...

\------------------------------

JD burrowed deeper into the pillows, protesting as his nice warm body pillow slid out of the bed.

"Do you have to go to school this morning?"

He shook his head and pulled the covers up over him.

"I'll take that as a no," Ezra sounded like he was laughing.

JD let himself drift off again, warm and relaxed. Some indeterminate time later, a hand slipped under the covers and cupped him firmly.

"I've time for a little early morning entertainment, if you're interested?" JD pushed his hips up in Ezra's hand wantonly, and Ezra chuckled. The covers were pulled off of him and he wanted to protest, but his cock was immediately tucked into Ezra's warm, wet mouth, and he groaned instead, stretching out languorously.

"Mmm, Ez..."

Ezra chuckled, and JD hardened further at the vibration tickling him, before slow, rhythmic pressure pulled at his cock. He shuddered. Ez's tongue was stroking him, prying into his slit, licking his foreskin, tracing the length of his shaft as his mouth slid up and down his shaft. He writhed, whimpering, and his hands settled on Ezra's head, his fingers sinking into the soft, damp hair. His hips lifted and Ezra simply sank further onto him, allowing JD deep into his throat, then swallowed, pulling him deeper, rippling muscles holding him firmly. He wailed, and came, gasping for air.

"God, Ez, you just about killed me," he managed eventually. Ezra lifted his head from JD's crotch, his eyes sparkling.

"I sincerely hope not," he smiled, and pushed JD until he rolled onto his belly. "Legs."

JD spread them willingly. "Oh..." Ezra's fingers breached him briefly, slipping in with lubricated ease, replaced in seconds by his cock. JD groaned again, and lifted his hips to the penetration. "God, Ezra," he said with helpless pleasure. "God."

Ezra stretched over JD's back, driving deep. "So eager," he murmured, and steadied his grip on JD's waist, then pulled him up to all fours, ramming home hard at the same moment.

JD yelled. Ezra hadn't done this before, driving into him with no quarter given, barely any preparation, and he was loving it. His spent cock started to fill again in response to the hard fucking he was taking, slick cock filling him deep, stretching him open with each thrust instead of the slow, gentle fingers that he had come to expect in only a week.

"Okay?" Ezra gasped out.

JD braced himself against the mattress, shoved back and begged, "Harder?" Ezra slammed into him, his hands gripping his waist so tightly that JD suspected he was going to have bruises later, but didn't care. All he could think about were their harsh gasps for air, and the slap of flesh on flesh as Ezra took him thoroughly. He shuddered as Ezra nailed his hot spot, and it was all over for him, and he came again, held up only by his lover's hands and thrusting hips. Ezra cried out softly, and collapsed onto JD. He sighed, enjoying the feel of being held so securely, Ezra's knees spreading his legs, pressing against his belly, Ezra's cock fitted deep inside him, and Ezra's chest and stomach draped over his back, his arms wound about his waist.

He was dimly aware of losing that secure embrace, of a kiss brushed over his cheek, and he turned his face to nuzzle up into Ezra's touch.

"Take care," he mumbled, and he thought Ezra hesitated for a long moment, stroking his hair, before kissing him lightly on the lips.

He wasn't sure if he dreamed Ezra saying, "I will, my dear. I will." He smiled and fell back to sleep again.

He woke some considerable time later, sprawled on his stomach, and wondered hazily if he had dreamed the whole encounter. He shifted his ass cautiously and hissed. Definitely not a dream then. He reached behind himself and gently touched his sore opening. His finger felt cool and soothing and he rubbed lightly there, his hips shifting slowly in time with his touch until he turned his head to look at the clock.

It was nearly eleven o'clock. He rolled to his feet, then staggered at the head rush. He sat on the edge of the bed and yawned, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, mindful of where his fingers had been. He didn't have to go in to the university at all today. Normally he would have been heading off to one of several part-time jobs, trying to keep body and soul together, and make the payments on the insurance. He grinned, rocking gently on his backside. Well, at least selling his ass meant he got to stay in bed in the mornings.

Ezra probably wouldn't find that as funny as he did.

He stood more slowly, and ambled into the shower. It was immaculately clean and he blushed scarlet. Mrs. Flores must have been through already. He wondered if she had looked into the bedroom or not, and groaned, seeing himself in his mind's eye, face down, legs spread, not so much as a sheet to cover him in Ezra's bed. What must she have thought?

He started the shower up and told himself sternly, "She probably thought exactly the right thing," but he couldn't help cringing in embarrassment. He cleaned up and pulled on old soft jeans and a t-shirt, relishing the feel as the denim seam pressed closely over his aching ass, the waistband cinching roughly over the ten finger shaped bruises darkening there. He was surprised when he tried the bedroom door and found it wouldn't budge. He tugged a couple of times, then slapped himself on the forehead and tried the key, smiling with relief when it opened. He was half way down the stairs when it dawned on him that Ez had probably locked it to make sure that Mrs. Flores didn't walk in on him. He breathed a sigh of relief and bounced into the kitchen to find something to eat, and stopped dead as he came face to face with Mrs. Flores herself.

"Buenas dias, senor," she said cheerfully, packing the dishwasher with their plates from the night before.

"Oh, uh, hi," he smiled nervously at her, hoping she spoke some English. "I'm JD." He stuck out a hand, which she looked at doubtfully, then shook.

"Rosita Flores, JD," she smiled at him.

He nodded and wandered over to the cupboard where a box of Cheerios had mysteriously appeared on Monday while he was at school. He turned to find a bowl, and discovered a clean one had been put on the table, along with a spoon, a bowl of sugar and a jug of milk.

"Oh, hey, thank you, you don't have to--"

"It's fine, JD," Rosita nodded, "Eat up. Is it okay to clean your room now?"

JD blushed and nodded, keeping his head down and stolidly taking another mouthful of cereal. He couldn't remember seeing a condom anywhere, and figured Ez was fastidious enough to have thrown it away immediately after use. He was pretty sure she knew what was going on, but there was no point rubbing her face in it. And that was a nasty mental image.

The dishwasher shut with a click, and churned softly into action. He listened as the sound of her footsteps receded and groaned with embarrassment, dropping his head to the table.

"Such a fucking loser, Dunne," he mumbled, and gritted his teeth, pulled himself upright in the chair and finished his breakfast. How the hell was he supposed to handle talking to a complete stranger who clearly had access to the most intimate information about him. His eyes widened. God, what if she looked in the bathroom trashcan?

"She won't. Why would she want to?" He picked up the bowl and drank the last of the milk straight from it, and wiped his mouth with a sigh, and refilled the bowl. He took the second breakfast along to the study, where he plugged his laptop back into Ezra's newly set up LAN, and dived straight online, checking his university account first, and then his personal one. He smiled at a sprawling email from Casey, and settled in to read. By the time he'd finished the Cheerios he was chuckling at Casey's description of her agronomy professor's last lecture. The man clearly either had a poker face to rival Ezra's, or genuinely had no sense of humor. Casey was betting on the latter.

He typed a quick reply, and moved on to the next one. This was from the ATF Denver office, and he opened it cautiously, wondering if someone was going to jibe at him, maybe hassle him about Ezra or something. He flipped to the end of the message, and saw the signoff was Vin Tanner, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Whew. What the hell's he writing to me for?" he scrolled back up the top, and read with some trepidation, which slowly spread into a pleased smile. Again he hit reply, and emailed the man back -- he'd forgotten about the autumn track events, it would be great to go dirt biking with him in a couple of weeks. His smile broadened. He could even buy himself a new bike, not risk his baby. He knew fine well that the Kawasaki might just take it into its head to fall apart if he treated her too roughly.

He stretched and arched his back, gasping softly at the dull ache as he rocked on his ass. He felt himself tightening and smiled again. He needed to get Ez to cut loose more often.

He hit send, and shut down the computer. Now, if Ez was here, they could go back to bed. He huffed his disappointment through pursed lips and stood. Maybe he could find something to do outside.

Half an hour later he had decided against the swimming pool (too cold), reading on the deck (too dull), finishing the next chapter of his dissertation (*way* boring), using the X-Box (Mrs. Flores vacuuming), and was wandering around the kitchen on the scrounge for something to snack on.

He was just reaching in to steal one of Tanner's pop-tarts when a voice startled him.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

He jerked back, cracking his head on the underside of the cabinet and swore as he lost his balance and sat on the hard kitchen floor. Not such a pleasant reminder.

"I live here. Who the hell are you?" he snapped back, glaring at the stranger standing over him.

"Does Mrs. Flores know you're here?" The man turned without another word and yelled, "Mrs. Flores? Senora Flores?"

"Que es, Peter?" She came rushing into the kitchen as JD rubbed his head, screwing up his face.

"Peter! ¡Qué le hancho! ¡Sr. Dunne es un amigo de Sr. Standish! ¿Qué le hancho hecho al pobre muchacho? ¿Te lastimaron?"

JD blinked at the torrent of Spanish, but not as much as the large man who swiftly backed away from him.

"Sorry, man, I didn't know you were meant to be here. I just kinda let my mouth run off ahead of my brain." He held out a conciliatory hand and JD gripped it and was pulled to his feet. "Pete Nichols."

JD shrugged, "Guess it's an easy mistake to make. JD Dunne." They shook under the watchful eye of Senora Flores.

"Good. Peter, Mr. Dunne lives here now, he is Mr. Standish's friend, okay?"

Nichols frowned a little at that, and shrugged. "Rosita, I came to ask if I could borrow some of the disinfectant again? Pasada bit me again."

"Again! You should be more careful around that criatura del diablo," she scolded, but walked briskly over to another cupboard, reaching in to produce a box with a green cross on it. "Bring it back when you are finished, no?"

"Sure, Rosie." He glanced thoughtfully at JD, then headed back out of the kitchen door, first aid box in his hands.

"Senora Flores?" JD said hesitantly.

"Yes, pequeño?"

"Who was that? And who's Pasada?"

Rosita smiled, "Pasada is Senor Standish's horse, and a good judge of character," she paused significantly. "Senor Standish has only met Mr. Nichols twice, when he was looking for someone to help with the horses. One day he will no longer even clean the shit from the stables."

"Horses!" JD said eagerly, and then registered the rest of her sentence. "What's he do to them?"

"I cannot prove it. I have not seen him do it. But sometimes I think Pasada bites because Mr. Nichols hurt him first." She shrugged fluidly. "Mr. Nichols, I think, has a bad temper."

"But--" he looked out the window to where Nichol's figure had disappeared around a corner. "But, how come--" he stopped himself. That was a question to ask Ezra. He frowned.

"Is everything OK, JD?"

"Yeah, Rosita," he said absently, his eyes fixed on the empty landscape. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"Stay away from him, JD. Mr. Nichols is usually finished by one o'clock."

"Thanks." He turned his head to smile at her. "Thanks, Rosita."

"Be careful," she said with gentle warning, and JD grinned.

"Just gonna check out those horses. Ez said I could. I guess now's a pretty good time." He caught her worried frown, and reddened. "Aw, Rosita, I'll be fine!"

"Hmphf!" she snorted and shook her head. "I have cleaning to finish. I have no time for talking to muchachos testarudos."

JD grinned. "Seeya later!" He swiped an apple from the bowl on the table and headed out through the utility room to grab his much abused Timberland boots, and pull them on. He ran upstairs in his boots to get a sweater, and then jogged out of the house, down the path that Nichols had taken, following it around a stand of trees to a low white building that looked older than the house.

"Hello?" he called out. "Pete?"

"Who's that?" Nichols' voice was unfriendly, and he emerged from the stable to look disparagingly at JD, and turn away again. "You again. What do you want?"

"Ez said I could check out the horses, maybe have a ride."

"Mr. Standish didn't say anything to me about it."

JD smiled brightly and headed into the stables after Nichols. "Guess he forgot. Wow!" he added with honest awe as he caught sight of a creamy palomino.

"You're a beauty aren't you?" He spotted the nameplate carved from wood hung over the stall, and smiled. He pulled out a pocket knife and sliced the apple in his hand and offered a eighth to the palomino. "You're Pasada, huh? Guess Ez must put plenty of stock in you. He said not to meddle with ya," he murmured softly, letting the horse take her own time investigating his hand before she delicately took the apple, then pushed into his hand for more. "Ahh, you're a sweet girl, aren't you?" he said delightedly.

"Mr. Standish won't like you feeding 'er bits an' pieces of god knows what."

"Oh, one or two bits of apple won't hurt, will they, Pasada?" He offered another piece of apple, and ran a hand down her long neck, over the beautifully kept mane as she delicately took it.

"I'll let Mr. Standish know you said that," Nichols said derisively and JD flinched.

Ez *had* said he shouldn't mess with the palomino. He bit his lip, and let her be with just one more pat, wandering along to the next horse, a chestnut gelding in the next but one stall. "You're real pretty, too, huh," he said softly as the horse lipped up its piece of apple eagerly. "You're all real nice looking horses," he said to himself, eying the two other animals, a black and a bay. "I'm sorry, I'm going to run out of apple if I give it all to you," he said to the chestnut, who whickered disappointedly when he walked away to offer the last four pieces equally to the other two. "There you go, hey, is that good?" His stomach rumbled unexpectedly, and he grinned ruefully. "I sure hope it was, that was my lunch."

"You leave those horses alone, Dunne," Nichols loomed up behind him, and JD spun to face him, finding himself with his back pressed hard up against the bay's stall to avoid touching him. "You hear me?"

"They're Ezra's horses," he said defiantly, "And I think I get more of a say than you do around here."

He flinched, hard, when Nichols' fists clenched, and then the man leaned in close, and whispered, "Don't count on that, boy." He reached for JD, and for a terrifying moment he thought the man was going to strangle him, but he just gripped his shoulders, and whispered again, "You know, I'm still on parole from the last little shit who mouthed off at me, or I'd teach you a few manners."

JD stared wide eyed at him. Nichols leaned back and dusted JD's shoulders off with a mocking grin.

"Now, you leave those horses be. Understand?"

JD bit his lip and said nothing.

"Understand?" Nichols leaned in closer, and JD ducked under his arms and hurried for the exit. "Good boy," Nichols called after him, "You run home to your Momma, boy!"

JD made himself walk away at a steady, casual pace, feeling like a target was painted on his back. He clenched his fists and swallowed his anger as he heard Nichols laughing. He stopped as soon as he was out of sight of the stables.

"I am going to *get* you, you fucker," he muttered.

He drew a deep breath, and then another. Rosita had said the guy was only there until one. He checked his watch, an hour to wait. He wandered around to the front of the house where he found a old hayseed truck parked in the front drive, pretty much blocking access in and out of the place.

"Stupid bastard," he muttered, and headed for his bike. He crouched down by it, checking the tread and the tires. He sighed. He'd sold his tool kit along with the bike, and although Frank had been willing to sell the bike back, especially at five hundred more than he'd paid for it, he'd kept the tool kit, pointing out, with some truth, that if JD could unload a couple of thousand on a beat up bike, then he could afford to put a kit together again.

He could, he just hadn't had the time to go to his favorite bike shop yet. He ran a hand over the seat and decided he'd do that soon, maybe tomorrow when he was back on campus. He'd need some stuff before he could go off with this Tanner guy. He tried the garage door but it was locked. He shook his head with a smile, trying to picture Ezra up to his elbows in machine oil. He'd be willing to bet that Ezra's mechanic made a fortune off of Ez's lack of tools.

He toyed with the idea of just heading off exploring, and then remembered that he was going to go riding once that thug in the stables went back under whatever rock he crawled from.

Maybe he could get himself some lunch. He headed back inside and then remembered the two breakfasts less than an hour ago, and just snagged another apple, or two, or three, and a bag of chips. Rosita was dusting in the living room so he gave up the idea of turning on the X-Box, and drifted back out to the deck, ending up sitting on the edge of it, his legs dangling over the steep drop off. He worked his way slowly through the first apple and the bag of chips, his eyes half shut as he stared out at the mountains.

It was a beautiful September day, and while patches of the ground were yellow and desiccated, there were enough trees to let him almost forget that he was living in a desert. The sky was clear and blue, the mountains pushing up into it, and he felt muscles unknotting as he swung his legs and did nothing in particular.

"You'd've loved it here, Mom," he said under his breath. He drew in a deep breath, feeling the cool breeze on his face, and then shook his head. "How the hell did I get myself into this, Mom? And what the hell am I going to do about Ez?"

He tucked his hands under his arms for warmth, and watched as a speck high in the sky drifted in lazy circles downwards. He wished he had binoculars, and then smiled ruefully. "Wouldn't recognize it even if I had 'em, right, Mom?"

If she had been with him, she would have just laughed at him for putting the cart before the horse again. He grinned. She'd had a dozen phrases for the same thing, and they all boiled down to him being too impulsive.

"I leapt and I didn't look. Or at least, I looked, and then I kinda changed the plan." He couldn't help thinking that she'd be far happier than he was that he was having real feelings for Ezra. "Wish you were here, Mom. Wish I really did meet him at a bar, and drop that drink on him and then bought him another one. We could have talked a bit, and maybe kissed. I could have blown him in that car of his, god, I so need to remember to do that -- er, you didn't hear that bit, Mom, right?" He laughed out loud. She'd always stopped him as soon as he got as far as kissing, and she'd ask him, were you safe? Did you have fun? and as long as the answer was always yes to both she would just hug him, and tell him those were the main things.

"Yeah, we're safe," he said to the sky. "And *man* are we having fun." He smiled, a little bittersweet, and added, "I guess that's the main thing, right?"


	14. Animae dimidium meae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comunication is a wonderful thing. People should do more of it.

Sunlight pulled at JD's eyelids, and he rolled away from it, landing tight up against a warm, naked body. He made a small, appreciative noise, and, eyes still closed, rubbed his face against Ezra's nape. He was warm and comfortable, and content. Ezra's ass fitted neatly against his hips, and he crooked his knees, shifting until he was plastered against Ezra's full length. As he draped his arm over Ezra's narrow waist a hand grasped his, fingers intertwined. He smiled to himself and pressed his lips to Ez's shoulder blade, vaguely wondering what time it was. He slitted one eye open to look at the clock, and then was sitting bolt upright, shaking Ezra's arm.

"Fuck! Ez! Eight o'clock! Up an' at 'em!" He bolted for the bathroom; his first class was at nine, Ez was due in by eight thirty, and neither of them were going to be on time. Behind him he heard the disjointed muttering that suggested that Ezra had woken, but hadn't caught up with events. Then Ezra zipped past him into the shower. JD finished with his teeth and sniffed at himself cautiously. Shower it was. Regular sex had at least one disadvantage then. He grinned. He was pretty sure he could put up with the trade-off.

He dived in next to Ezra, stealing the shower gel out of his hands and squirting a large handful out. The shower was far too small for both of them and they rubbed up against each other as they tried to wash, all painful elbows and vulnerable ribs.

"This," JD ducked under the shower head and rinsed out his hair, much to Ezra's annoyance, who was still trying to sluice bubbles off his butt, "could be a lot more fun than it is." He pecked a kiss on Ezra's disgruntled nose.

"Hold that thought." Ezra winked, and then shoved him out of the way, hogging the water to himself. "Are you done? Get out then and let me finish." He grabbed his razor from the rack hanging in the shower and carefully started to remove his stubble.

JD simply ran a hand over Ezra's ass possessively and slid out before Ezra could do more than wave the straight-edge threateningly in his direction.

He dried off rapidly and dragged on the previous day's jeans -- really, too old and worn to leave the house, but it was all he had to hand. A long sleeved tee and sweater completed the clothing, and he was rummaging desperately for a pair of socks in the same color -- he had given up on finding actual pairs years before. His hair was still damp on the back of his neck and he rubbed at it, then caught the time on the bedside clock and fled for the kitchen.

He _might_ have time for breakfast. He put the coffee on for Ez, and sliced a huge wedge of bread off of the loaf in the bread basket, folded it over a piece of ham and a slab of cheese and stuffed as much as he could into his mouth while pulling on his boots. It was already too late for Ezra, but he might still have a chance -- he still had fifty minutes to get onto campus, and the drive took about an hour if he took it easy.

Ezra appeared nearly seven minutes later looking dapper as ever except for one missing shoe.

"John, have you seen--"

"Living room?"

"Tried there."

JD frowned and tried to remember. "You were wearing them yesterday?"

Ezra nodded, and took a quick gulp of the coffee JD handed him. JD swallowed another mouthful of sandwich and headed into the living room. He walked behind the couch and lifted it up.

"Thank you!" Ezra crouched and grabbed his shoe from where it had become wedged under the couch. He pulled it on, and hurried for the door. He tipped the mug back, draining the last of it, and abandoned the mug on the coffee table. "Thanks, kid," he smiled. "You need a ride today?" He held the front door for him and then locked it behind them.

JD shook his head as he hastily zipped up his bomber jacket. "Nah. Make better time separately." He hooked his helmet on the handlebar of the bike, and settled his backpack securely over his shoulders. The car and motorcycle were parked side by side, and Ezra had to shuffle carefully past the Kawasaki to reach the driver side door of the Jag.

"Agreed." He unlocked the door and stopped before he got inside. "Drive carefully?"

JD stopped as he was about to pull his helmet over his head and leaned over to kiss him. "You too, okay? No getting shot or stuff." He checked the bike over quickly, then settled himself.

Ezra grinned lop-sidedly. "I do not get shot. I am the cause of getting shot in others."

"Whatever. And don't get stopped by the state patrol, you'll be later'n you are already!"

Ezra smirked and slid into the car. "As if they could catch this jewel among cars," he called back. Any further comments were drowned as the two engines turned over. JD pulled on his helmet and pulled out ahead of Ezra. They paced each other for a while, but the later hour meant heavier traffic, and JD was soon far ahead of Ezra, weaving in and out of the busy rush hour.

JD concentrated on the traffic. He liked leaving earlier or later, hated trying to get his vulnerable bike through the oblivious suburban commuters. One man cut in front of him and damn near clipped him, forcing JD to weave dangerously away into the next lane. It was sheer luck that there was enough space for him. JD swore and slapped his hand against the man's door as he passed him. "Wake up," he growled. The man apparently took offence at someone touching his car and crowded JD until he simply slid around the SUV and kept moving, until the reckless idiot was a distant blob merged with the rest of the slowing vehicles caught in the morning deluge pouring into Denver. He squeaked through an opening, and made his turn into the road leading down to the university. He might make his class, he thought hopefully.

Fifteen minutes later JD checked his watch and swore, scrambling off his bike with more speed than grace. He had exactly three minutes to get from the parking lot to the classroom. He ran flat out, and then went flying when someone, he glanced back and found Morgan staring absently in the other direction and knew instantly who, had tripped him up. His knees stung, and he scrambled up the steps, hoping that his helmet and computer hadn't been damaged.

He slid around the corner and pushed open the door, breathing a sigh of relief. Dr. Rosomon hadn't arrived yet. He found a chair and let his thumping heart slow down. He wondered how Ezra was faring.

\------------------------------------------------

"Glad you could make it, Standish," Chris Larabee was standing by Ezra's desk, his arms folded. "When you can spare a moment I'd like to see you in my office."

"No problem," he smiled as best he could, still out of breath from sprinting to the elevator from the car. In the background Buck had jerked his tie around, holding it by the end as though hanging himself, his head drooping and his tongue hanging out. Vin winked at him. Nathan was nowhere in sight, but his momentary hope that he was not the last man in was defeated half born when he noticed the driving shoes under Jackson's chair, and the missing work shoes.

"Good night out, Ez?" Buck asked with a big grin. "Or should that be, big night _in_?"

"Nothing of the sort. The alarm clock failed to wake us, and we overslept."

Buck waggled his eyebrows. "All wore out."

Ezra ignored him, and applied himself to logging on, gathering folders and steeling himself for the deeply unpleasant encounter that was no doubt going to ensue the moment he walked into Mr. Larabee's office.

"How's the kid?" Buck tried again.

"Why not ask him yourself," Ezra said sharply, then calmed himself. "_I_ have a meeting with our short-tempered leader."

"So, when _did_ you leave?" Vin asked lazily. He grinned at Ezra's narrowed eyes.

Ezra looked coolly back. "I believe we woke at approximately eight am."

All eyes turned to the clock and back to Ezra.

"It's only eight forty right now," Vin pointed out.

"Thank you, yes, I am aware of the time. Speaking of which I should go and--" He headed for Chris's office.

"We going to get one of those calls from the DPD again, Ezra?" Josiah asked curiously and Ezra rolled his eyes.

"Not that it's any of your concern, but no. Now, if you'll excuse me?" He squared his shoulders, squared his documents, and knocked on Larabee's door.

"Come in."

\------------------------------------------------

Eleven already. JD grabbed his stuff and sprinted for the men's room. Somehow he'd forgotten to pee before he got into class. He sighed with relief, and then washed his hands. He had about an hour before a one hour session on topologies, which he already knew. Maybe he could get himself some lunch instead.

He was heading to the student cafeteria when his cell phone started vibrating in his pocket. He fished it out and looked at the phone number displayed on the tiny little screen with some puzzlement. Only Ezra and Casey had his number, as far as he knew, so who the hell could be calling him? He shrugged and answered.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Hey kid! How are you?"

He vaguely recognized the voice, but couldn't place it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, kid, can you hear me?" There was a sharp rapping sound in JD's ear and he winced.

"I can hear you!" he said urgently, and switched the phone to his other ear.

"It's Buck, Buck Wilmington." The man's voice drawled softly, right in his ear, and he grimaced. Him. The man carried straight on, cheerfully, as though he couldn't imagine that JD wasn't pleased to hear from him. "You remember me? From the poker night at Ez's place the other night."

"Uh, sure. I remember you." Try as he might he couldn't quite keep the emphasis off of 'you'.

"Sure you remember!" Wilmington said happily, "Don't rightly see how you'd forget."

JD couldn't quite see how he'd forget someone who near as dammit called his lover a pedophile, either. On the other hand, the guy meant well. Maybe he wasn't giving the man enough credit. On the other, other hand, the man had been a complete pain in the ass that night. He grinned to himself, three hands already and it ain't yet noon.

"Yeah," JD agreed shortly. Buck huffed a sigh and spoke again in a voice so soft JD had to strain to hear it.

"Look, kid, I ain't sayin' sorry again. Done is done. But we got off on the wrong foot, and I'd maybe like to change that if I can?"

"I--"

"So I was thinking that I could buy you lunch, poor starving student, probably glad of a --" he coughed and stopped, "Sorry, yeah, so, there's this little place I know, very quiet at lunchtime, pretty happening in the evenings, some of the waitresses are pretty easy on the eye, if you know what I -- oh, ah, well, you wouldn't be interested in that, right? Kid?" He seemed to belatedly realize that he was the only one participating in the conversation.

"I'm here!" JD said hastily, forestalling another sequence of thumps applied to Wilmington's phone. "I could do lunch." If I have to. The thought crossed his mind that Wilmington worked with Ez; where Ezra was discreet and silent, Wilmington was loud and garrulous. Maybe he could find out-- "Yeah, why not? When, where?"

"Okay then. Today? Tomorrow? One? I can pick you up if--"

"I can find it!" he said, perhaps a little more sharply than he intended. "Just tell me where and I'll be there."

"Sure, sure. Ah, the place I was thinking of is Recillos' Wine Bar, I can give you directions--"

"That's fine, I know it."

"Do you now?" Wilmington sounded put out. "Guess Ez took you there."

"Something like that." Really it was more me taking him, but you know, TMI, he reflected with a smirk that he could only be grateful that Wilmington couldn't see. And if he remembered rightly there was something about Buck and this place anyway. Free food, possible information, and a floor show too. This was sounding better by the moment. He grinned wickedly. "Tomorrow's better than today."

"Fine, I'll --oh. No, that's no good, got a bust, how about the day after?"

"I can do today if you want. Or day after tomorrow. Whatever."

"Friday then."

"Friday. It's a date," JD added.

"Uh, sure," Wilmington agreed doubtfully. "Only not a _date_ date. Because, well, you know, you'n'Ezra, an' me not into that sort of-- and --"

JD laughed as Buck stumbled between the rock of giving offence, and the hard place of preserving his manly, heterosexual integrity.

"Bastard," Buck growled, no real venom in his voice.

"Takes one to know one," he said cheerfully. "Seeya Friday, at Inez' place, around one."

"Take care, boy," Buck said in farewell.

"You too." He hung up and stared at the phone for nearly a minute. One had been happenstance. Two was just coincidence. Three would be enemy action. He smiled and shrugged off the niggling anxiety that said no one would want to get to know him without an ulterior motive. Ezra had paid half a million for the pleasure of his company. He was a nice guy. They were nice guys. Why _wouldn't_ someone want to get to know him?

Especially when, that niggling little voice insisted on being heard, they work for the FBI or ATF or whatever, and you're their colleague's queer boyfriend. Yeah, people really put themselves out to do that kind of thing. To meet a scrawny, boring, over-educated loner. Yeah. Right.

I wonder why Ezra picked me?

A moment later he shrugged and headed into his next lab. He really needed to stop reading those conspiracy websites.

\------------------------------------------------

Ezra emerged from Chris's office with a smug grin on his face and considerably less paperwork than he had gone in with. Most of it was now in Larabee's capable hands, even if that gentleman wasn't entirely clear on how or why that should be the case.

Vin's eyes held banked amusement, as he murmured, "...four... three... two..."

Right on cue, Larabee's voice erupted. "Standish!"

Ezra picked up his pace and left the office for the quietness of one of the small meeting rooms. Not fleeing exactly. Just, not being present during any potential contretemps.

He spread his paperwork out and sighed contentedly. Larabee had approved his request to review the Lasater bust. Josiah was probably going to freak, but something was bothering him about the deal. It was like trying to find that one loose end that you _knew_ was hanging off your suit, but couldn't, quite, see or reach. He frowned as he stared at nothing, his mind turning over scenarios, and then he quirked a small grin and started writing.

This could work.

\------------------------------------------------

JD balanced a pile of books on one knee while trying to pull another one from the bottom of his backpack, and not dropping his helmet or laptop, which was dangling precariously half in and half out of the bag.

"Mr. Dunne?"

He startled and whirled, dropping books everywhere. The bag fell too, and it was only a reflexive snatch that saved the laptop from following it.

"Shit." He looked up and found the head of his department looking at him with an expression somewhere between exasperation and amusement on his face. "Sorry, Professor Sanders." He looked at the books, and decided to pick them up after the dean was done with him.

He hastily shoved the bag, laptop and helmet into his locker and forced it closed. He turned back to face them in time to catch Sanders scowling at his ancient, ripped jeans, and the man standing with him eying him with an uncomfortable intensity. He had a strong suspicion that had he looked up a second sooner he'd've caught those dark, predatory eyes on his ass. Abruptly he regretted dragging on his oldest, most comfortable jeans this morning. But he'd been in a hell of a hurry, and his butt had ached something fierce, too much to tolerate anything harsher than the butter soft denim, no matter that they were too tight for underwear, and too torn to wear anywhere but school and home. And judging by the look on Professor Sanders' face, he might want to consider retiring them from anything but around the house.

"Don't worry about it. Mr. Dunne, I'd like you to meet Jake Torrence." He turned his head towards a distinguished looking man perhaps sixty years of age. He was lean, with strong features, a hooked nose and hawklike black eyes that pinned JD with an assessing gaze. JD felt like a mouse being eyed up for edibility, and straightened his spine, meeting the man's look defiantly.

"Mr. Torrence," he nodded. He shook hands with the man, ignoring the way the grip lingered a little too long, and the way the man's thumb slid unseen across his palm in a deliberate caress. He folded his arms and tucked his hands under them, surreptitiously rubbing the right one clean.

"Mr. Dunne." The man's accent was clipped and clean, the kind of generic American that no one but newsreaders really spoke in.

"Mr. Torrence is contributing a exceptionally generous donation to this department, and expressed a particular interest in your work, when we were discussing the future of computing." Sanders smiled warmly at JD, who smiled warily back.

"Really?" he said with doubtful enthusiasm. "Not many people ever ask about my stuff. It's all kinda boring and theoretical at the moment."

"You're too modest, Mr. Dunne," Torrence smiled at him, but JD caught an edge of cold calculation in the man's expression. "I have some ideas about the commercial applications for--"

JD interrupted, "I'm really sorry, sir, but I'd rather not discuss anything like that? My work is still experimental, and I have some ideas of my own that I don't want to contaminate with other people's stuff, if you don't mind."

Torrence's eyebrows lifted momentarily, and then settled, and he grinned at JD. "I guess I can appreciate that." His whole demeanor was suddenly friendlier. "Maybe you could tell me a little about your work over coffee?" He raised a hand before JD could refuse, "With the proviso that it is all experimental and confidential?"

JD could see the professor smiling in a meaningful manner at him, and suppressed a sigh. "No problem, sir."

"Don't worry about missing class, JD." Professor Sanders patted him on the back and smiled again, toothily. "I'll let your tutor know."

JD gritted his teeth and smiled politely at Torrence.

"So, JD -- I may call you JD?"

"Sure, Jake," JD said calmly, and flinched at the flash of annoyance in the man's face.

"Of course," he agreed with less good humor. "Tell me something about yourself."

JD shrugged. "I'm a grad student in the math department of Denver U. I'm hoping to finish my doctoral dissertation in about a year or so. What's your interest in the department?" he asked bluntly.

Torrence looked at him oddly, and said, "I seem to be investing some money in a project that it has going. I wanted to know more. Have you been here since you started at university?"

JD blinked at the change of subject, but nodded, "Yeah, mostly. Started when I was fourteen, and stayed here pretty much right through. I went abroad for a couple of years to study, but I like it better here." He grinned cheerfully. "It's a great place."

"Abroad?"

JD found himself talking about his two years at Imperial, then the three years of his PhD, and then somehow he was talking about his mother. He stopped himself dead, and apologized.

"I'm sorry, you wanted to know about my work, not my Mom," he shook his head at himself.

"She sounds like a delightful lady."

JD nodded, "Oh, she was. She loved that I went to university, I was the first person that she knew of in her family to go. She could have gone herself, only she had me, and that kind of--" he looked embarrassed, "I'm sorry, I'm doing it again -- I'll stop now."

Torrence merely smiled. "I am always interested in young people," he said softly, and JD edged away from him slightly, wishing he hadn't said as much as he had. "I take it that your mother has passed away?"

JD ducked his head and nodded wordlessly. The last thing he needed was to start sharing his emotions as well as his life story with some industrialist and big bucks benefactor of the university. Particularly one who looked at him with such a coolly assessing air.

"I'm sorry," the man said with perfunctory sympathy.

"Thank you. But it was a mercy." It wasn't. Couldn't ever have been, but it would shut him up.

"So, what are you studying now?" The man changed the subject and JD seized on the change with alacrity.

He straightened, and launched into a spiel about his software designs, without going into any details. He'd already learned that lesson from a so called friend who was now living large on the proceeds of one of the ideas JD had discussed with him, but not had the time or money to follow up.

"There are some companies doing something like you describe," Torrence said thoughtfully. "Domestic appliances -- intelligent cleaning."

"Yeah. It's interesting stuff, but fundamentally flawed, in my opinion." JD dismissed a multi-million dollar industry with a shrug and missed the amusement in Torrence's eyes.

"Fascinating." He smiled at JD and patted him on the shoulder. JD flinched away and moved out of range. "I'm delighted to talk to a young man who has managed to do so much with his life. I imagine your mother would be very proud of you."

JD's jaw tightened and he reddened with shame. She would have been horrified that he had resorted to prostituting himself to pay her bills. He could forget about it when he was with Ezra, but any time he thought of her, he knew how badly she would have been hurt, and how unhappy at his choice. She had always insisted there were choices; this time he had taken the easy one.

"I know she was very proud of my school work," was all he said, quietly, and hoping that the rush of blood to his face would be dismissed as embarrassment at the compliment. It must have worked, as Torrence merely nodded politely.

"Of course. Well, JD, it's been a pleasure to meet you." The man held out his hand and they shook firmly. "I expect I will be hearing more of you in the future." He nodded and turned away towards the exit.

"Thank you sir." He glanced back at the closed door to Professor Sanders' office. "Um. Was the Professor expecting you back?"

Torrence quirked a disdainful eyebrow at him. "No. No, I don't think so." He drew a quick breath then stopped. "My regards to Mr. Standish. Remember me to him. And his lovely mother," he added as a seeming afterthought.

"How did you--" But the man simply turned on his heel and never looked back, leaving JD staring after him. He shook himself and headed back to his locker. The contents tried to fall out in a hideous mess when he opened it, and only quick reflexes saved the helmet from going flying.

"Shit!" He carefully pulled everything out and started repacking it, organizing his books for the day into his backpack, and the rest of it into neat heaps on the locker shelves. He paused as he slid his folder of probability notes alongside the stack of books, and frowned, eyes unfocused.

"Well, that was strange," he said quietly. "And kinda creepy." He shivered, then finished up. "What the hell did he mean about Ez?" He paused, lifting his head in sudden awareness. "I never said a word about Ez. And the professor doesn't know his name. I just said 'ATF'." He stared after Torrence. "What the hell have I gotten myself into?"

Torrence had looked at him the way some of those people back at Donna's auction had; like he was meat on a rack, to be assessed for quality, value for money and edibility. The ones he had desperately hoped wouldn't be interested in him. He swallowed. Their eyes had smeared over him, knowing that they were better than he was, that they could, and maybe would, buy and sell him without any interest in how he felt about it. Turning him into a commodity, not a person. He swallowed dryly. He was reading far too much into it. Maybe the guy just liked boys. And it wasn't as if he'd been anything but polite. Not even touching him. Not really. And besides, he was a benefactor to the department. Just because he got the wiggins off the man was no reason to start making him into something he wasn't. By the time he finished he decided to check with the professor's secretary, and pass on Torrence's apologies that way, rather than trouble the man in person.

He was walking down to her office when he met Sanders in the corridor.

"Ah, JD! Has our guest left?" Sanders peered over JD's shoulder as though expecting the man to pop up from around the corner.

"Yes, sir." He hesitated a second, then blurted out, "What did he want, Professor?"

Sanders shook his head. "Between you and me, I have no idea what his interest in the place is. I did wonder maybe if you knew him from somewhere?"

"Me, Professor? No." JD shook his head, confused.

"Ah. Odd."

"Professor?" JD hurried to catch up as the professor started moving back to  
his office.

"Well, he asked for you by name. Was quite interested in you as a matter of fact." Sanders glanced at him, and abruptly JD was aware of the fierce intelligence that had taken the man to the position of head of the math department, before he was forty. "If he has any suggestions about meeting you privately, or asks you to do anything you feel uncomfortable with, do not feel obliged to play along. We are not a poor department, and while sponsorship is always pleasant it is not always worth the price demanded."

JD nodded. "No, sir. I mean, yes, I understand sir." And, looking into Sanders' eyes, he wondered how much, in turn, the professor understood.

"Hmm." He paused outside his office. "JD, if there is anything troubling you... Please, don't make any rash decisions. And if you get into difficulties, my door is always open."

JD smiled. "Thank you, sir. I've got some good friends looking out for me these days."

"Your ATF boyfriend?" His eyebrows lifted with amusement.

JD grinned back, pleased that he'd remembered. "Not just him, but yeah." He blushed as he said it, and couldn't stop smiling at the thought of Ezra, his boyfriend. It sounded so _normal_.

Sanders laughed, "Well, then, we will all be on our best behavior." He grinned at JD and suddenly looked more like a fellow student than a responsible professor. "Try not to cause too much mayhem with the liquor raids."

JD snickered. "No raids, professor," he promised recklessly, and Sanders chuckled.

"On another subject," Sanders turned and started walking towards the main seminar room, "Professor Rosomon was speaking to me about seeing if we could find a place for you as his teaching assistant."

JD blinked. "Wow. Really? But I've only been back like, five minutes."

"I think you'll find it has been rather more like two weeks," the professor said dryly, "And as Professor Rosomon pointed out, you would have been a TA long ago had it not been for your family circumstances."

"Oh."

"I mention it because I believe you may want to consider the offer carefully, Mr. Dunne. For one thing, do you have any plans once you have your doctorate?"

"Well, sir, um, no. Not really. I kinda thought I'd like to stay on, keep doing pure research."

"Well, that will undoubtedly require a certain amount of teaching hours. Perhaps it would be a good opportunity to start finding how you cope with a teaching load. And of course, I imagine the stipend will be welcome too. It's not much, but it always helps."

"Yes sir," JD said with some dismay. "I suppose it will." Just when he discovered he didn't need to work, he got handed his dream job on a plate. Now wasn't that just fucking typical?

Sanders smiled gently at him. "Now, off you go. Your next class is in five minutes I believe."

JD blinked, but the door was already closing behind Sanders. "How does he do that?" he mumbled to himself, and trotted off to enjoy an hour or so of probability theory.

\------------------------------------------------

"I wonder if you have any tickets available for tonight's performance? No? Thank you. I shall contact them. The number?" Ezra wrote yet another telephone number down and sighed. "No, no, thank you. Goodbye."

His shoulders dropped momentarily. That was the fifth ticket agent. The performance tonight was sold out. He had gone from thinking he might check availability, to being absolutely determined that he was going to get hold of tickets. JD would like it. Well, _he_, Ezra, would like it, and JD needed to get out. They hadn't been on a single date, unless you counted the lunch at Inez' bar last week. He let his mind drift back to that particular lunch.

Okay, he'd count that as their first date.

A tiny smile appeared on his lips and he carefully marked one year onwards in his calendar, just in case, he told himself. His smile widened.

He'd take his beautiful partner out properly, dinner and a show. Yes.

He thought of seeing the kid in a suit, and his smile turned amused even as his mouth dried at the mental image. JD in a suit. Did the boy even possess such a thing? He'd have to arrange some proper evening wear for him. Something appropriate to his new found wealth. Maybe he could pick up something for himself as well.

Maybe tomorrow morning they'd wake up early enough to shower together.

He looked down at the phone number scribbled on his notepad, and dialed again.

"Yes, good afternoon. I'm interested in obtaining two tickets for tonight's Don Quixote..."

\------------------------------------------------

He was fathoms deep in code, trying to locate a stray glitch that was causing some discrepancies in his predicted results, when someone's cellphone rang. He looked up and grinned to see students all around reach for bags, pockets and purses, fish out their phones and then put them away with a shrug. He turned back to the pc, and then remembered that he had a phone too. He managed to drag it out of his pocket just in time for the ring to cut out, and a message: "one missed call" to appear on the screen.

"Shit," he muttered, ducking his head and feeling a red flush creep across his face at the glares from his fellow students. He shut down his laptop and gathered his things hastily, then quickly made his way out of the quiet study area of the science library. He prodded the phone as he walked until it finally condescended to tell him that he had missed a call from Ezra's cell.

"_Shit_!"

He pressed the button to call back, with a smile.

"Standish."

"Did you just call me?"

"I may have done," Ezra's voice teased lightly.

"Anything in particular?"

"I was wondering if you had any plans for this evening."

"No," JD shook his head even though Ezra couldn't see the gesture. "What's up?"

"I have a couple of tickets to Don Quixote, for seven thirty."

"Sounds good," he hesitated, and asked, "am I going to have to dress up?"

"What are you wearing?"

JD sniggered, "Weeeell--"

"Keep it clean, Mr. Dunne," Ezra said dryly, and JD could hear someone's laughing voice in the background asking how much the phone call was costing, and should it be allowed on government property. "Thank you, Mr. Wilmington, I am merely ascertaining whether John is attired suitably for a night at the ballet."

"Ballet!" JD squeaked, then blushed scarlet as half a dozen people glared at him. "_Ballet_?" he repeated in a whisper, and made tracks for the exit.

"The tickets were a last minute offer by an old friend," Ezra said, dry amusement lacing his tone over the raucous laughter in the background. "I thought you might enjoy an evening out, we could have dinner together, and later explore some of the culture that this city has to offer."

"Well, but, Ez, come on, _ballet_? Isn't that like every gay cliche rolled into one?"

Ezra sighed. "No, it is not. Have you ever actually _been_ to a ballet?"

"Well, no... but--"

"Then do not comment on something you know nothing about. That applies to you too, Mr. Wilmington."

"I ain't dressing up just to watch people bouncing around a stage, mooning at each other in tights." He found a wall outside the library to perch on and slung his bag up first, then swung himself up.

"What a --delightful-- summation of your knowledge of the performing arts, John. You don't have to dress _up_, just clean and neat would do."

"Ah, well, I -- "

"I forgot. How could I forget?" Ezra asked resignedly. "You wore those jeans, didn't you?" He sighed. "If there was ever an occasion to which they were least suited, this is it. So naturally you are wearing skin tight jeans so old the fabric has frayed through in half a dozen places."

"All the right places, Ez," JD said softly. Ezra made no reply for a long moment.

In the background, JD could hear Wilmington again, "Keep it clean, boys!"

When he spoke again, Ezra sounded husky, and JD smirked, turning his head to hide his expression from passers-by. "You, sir, are asking for trouble."

"I never ask for anything I don't want," JD said softly, and this time he could actually hear Ezra swallow, trying to compose himself.

"I suppose a shopping expedition is out of the question? Apply a little retail therapy to your unfortunate attire?"

"I guess I could wander down to Gap or something." Ezra groaned, and JD had a happy thought, "You could come too. I might need some help, you know, picking out something ... suitable."

"Because you couldn't possibly go shopping on your own." Ezra said sarcastically, and JD laughed.

"Well, sure, if you want to leave it to me to pick out the outfit--"

"On the other hand," Ezra changed his tune smoothly, "I believe it might behoove me to ensure you do not end up dressing yourself like a refugee from the grunge nation."

"'Behoove' you?"

"I'll see you in an hour?"

"Works for me." JD hastily reviewed his timetable, and discovered nothing he couldn't make up. There were distinct advantages to being very nearly ABD.

"In front of the mathematics building. That is where you are today, correct?"

"Mostly."

"Mostly? Does that mean parts of you are elsewhere?" Ezra asked, amusement in his voice.

"If you really want to know where my mind is, Ez..." JD dropped his voice and went for sultry, with mixed success. He choked and had to cough to clear his voice.

"I have a fairly good idea already, thank you, Mr. Dunne," Ezra told him firmly. "Further elaboration at this stage is not required."

"I'm at the library, but I'm heading over to the department about now anyway."

"I am becoming entirely too well acquainted with your timetable."

"You're just jealous of my leisurely student lifestyle."

"I won't even dignify that with a response," Ezra said smartly, and JD grinned again.

"Seeya in fifty-seven minutes then."

"Indeed."

JD hesitated, and Ezra cut the line before he could. An hour gave him some time to pack up, dump some stuff in his locker. Maybe even grab a shower over at the gym. Maybe shave. Brush his teeth. Maybe even get himself -- he looked around nervously, blushing a little, despite the fact that he was thinking in the privacy of his own head.

Ez would look damn good in a tux. He smiled, his mind miles away, perfecting a mental image that made him swallow hard and wish, yet again, that he'd worn looser jeans.

Yeah. An evening out with Ez sounded pretty good, even if there was going to be guys in tights.

\------------------------------------------------

"Not purple! I don't care how funky it is! I am not being seen with you looking like, like, like a damned ambulatory eggplant!" Ezra looked on the verge of tearing his hair out and JD winked surreptitiously at the shop assistant, who looked torn between horror and giggles.

"How about the gold velvet then?" He picked up the sleeve of the suit in question and stroked it lingeringly.

"Not velvet. Please!"

"It would look great with that green and black and purple shirt we saw back there."

"I wasn't even aware this place _had_ a Hawaiian range," Ezra said darkly. "And if I get my way, they will remove its pernicious presence forthwith."

"I like this shop, Ez," JD confided, and wandered a little further along the rack. "Mmmm. I loved fire engine red when I was a kid." He blinked as though a thought had suddenly occurred to him, "Hey, you're always calling me 'kid'. Maybe I should go for the nostalgia crack." He lifted the hanger a little off the rail and grinned as Ezra's hand snapped down on it.

"I think not!" He dragged JD down towards the fitting rooms, throwing a curt, "Please excuse us," to the smirking shop assistant over his shoulder.

"What's the matter, Ez? I thought you wanted me to smarten up; buy a suit; get something original, that suited me, that I liked--"

Ezra's mouth pursed tightly. "I do not for one moment believe that you thought any such thing. I think you took one look at this place and decided to behave as badly as possible in order to--"

"Ez!"

"--force my hand into taking you to some chain store that might as well be a thrift store for all the style and quality you'll obtain."

JD was red with embarrassment. "Ez, calm, down," he said tightly. "We're not exactly in private here."

"No. We aren't! And, yes, I am making a scene! But no worse than the spectacle you were making of yourself. If you do not wish to accompany me this evening, please say so, and I will relieve you of the clearly onerous task of sitting with me for some hours."

"Aw, Ez, come on," JD was starting to feel distinctly panicky. "I said I'd go, and I will, I just-- this isn't me?" He looked pleadingly at his lover, but Ezra had turned his back on him and was muttering unintelligibly, with hands flying. "Ez?" he asked nervously. "Please? I'll wear a monkey suit, a, a tux I mean, if you want. I just -- I ain't used to all this." He bit his lip. "I don't know what to --"

"What?"

I don't know anything, he thought furiously, clamping his jaw tightly shut and clenching his fists unconsciously. Anger, and miserable, humiliating shame burned in his throat like bile. This place, with its discreet shop front and quiet, elegant staff, and clothes with no price tags and no sizes, I don't know any of it. I don't fit in, I can't fit in: you can dress me up all you like and I'm still going to just be me, a chambermaid's son from New York, who doesn't --

"John, don't."

He looked hopelessly at Ezra. "You shoulda let me go to the mall, okay? This --" he waved at the store, "It's you, not me."

Ezra looked bewildered. "John, you have money. You don't have to dress like this any more." He glanced at JD's ragged jeans. "Don't you want to look better than that?"

"You liked these jeans all right yesterday," JD snapped, stung, and Ezra's eyes dropped.

"That was private."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry." Ezra sounded tired. He didn't look up, just shrugged. "You should, you should do what makes you happy. Dress how you want. I-- do you need a taxi or can you get back to campus on your own?"

JD flinched. "Ez?" He felt cold, and the room somehow seemed terribly distant. "Ez..." He reached out a hand and wrapped cold fingers around Ezra's wrist. "Don't go." You can't _go_.

"John?" Ezra pulled away, but before JD could do anything, say anything, he was holding JD tightly, pulling him into his chest, pressing his head into the crook of his neck. "John. My... my dear, I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

JD stood completely motionless for the longest time, slowly relaxing into Ezra. He felt like he never wanted to move.

"We're going home, okay?" Ezra murmured softly into his ear. Perhaps it had only been minutes after all. JD nodded into Ezra's shoulder but didn't move. "I don't want to make you unhappy," Ezra said softly. "I just thought-- John, you really want to know what I thought?" JD nodded, tilting his head back a little to meet Ezra's eyes. Ezra smiled. "I couldn't help thinking how fuckin' hot you'd look in a tailored suit."

"Really?" JD blinked a little. "Me?"

Ezra smiled, even though his eyes stayed solemn and watchful. "You. John, I never meant to make you feel--"

Like a whore. A big old dress up doll, not good enough for your world, JD thought, and he was afraid the thoughts showed on his face, because Ezra's eyes softened and he shook his head.

"Darlin', I love these jeans. I just don't want anyone else oglin' you," he smiled ruefully, inviting JD to share in a joke that he wasn't quite sure was funny.

"I don't understand."

Ezra laughed softly. "I know." He kissed JD lightly, and added, "I begin to understand the attraction of a Burqa."

"Ezra!"

"I'm jokin'!"

JD wasn't entirely sure he was, and blurted out, "You can't be jealous, you own me."

Ezra's face froze. "Of course I do. How foolish of me to forget."

Shit. "Shit, babe, I didn't mean that. Ezra, please, I didn't mean it like that!"

"What did you mean, then?"

JD stared into Ezra's eyes, and wondered if he really could see what he thought he was seeing. Or if it was a trick the mind played on the heart, making him think that iris and sclera, pupil and cornea had some unspoken message in them. "You dumbass, I only fucking went and fell in love with you, okay? Heart and soul. You didn't pay for them. You don't _get_ to pay for 'em. I'm giving them to you, all right?" Somehow he'd expected the moment when he offered this to involve candles, and a dim room, and soft words. This fitted better though, even if it wasn't perfect. Even if it did feel like jumping off a cliff.

Green eyes widened, somehow soft and vulnerable. "Heart and soul, Mr. Dunne?"

JD reddened and ducked his head, "Something like that," he muttered in sudden, acute embarrassment. He wasn't going to do this; he was going to play it cool, and calm, and wait out the year, and oh god, Ezra was kissing him like there was no tomorrow, no time to spare, and certainly no curious shop assistants just the other side of a thin wooden door...

"I was going to wait," Ezra said, pulling back for a brief moment, then kissing him again like he couldn't bear to be away from his lips. "I thought, I would ... wait till the ... contract was over."

"Ezra?" He really didn't mean to sound so anxious.

"Love you. God, darlin', I love you. Heart and soul."

JD's vision blurred, and he wasn't entirely sure that he was breathing. "You still wanna go see Don whatsisface?"

"Don who?" Ezra asked in genuine confusion. "Let's go home, baby."

JD smiled and they leaned in together for one more kiss. "Yeah," he whispered against Ezra's lips. "Let's go home."

* * *


	15. Ars Vivendi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Number fifteen. Wherein things continue as normal, and all sorts of things begin to go wrong as a consequence.

JD nuzzled at the warm skin under his lips, and smiled as the arms wrapped around him tightened.

"You awake, Ez?" he whispered. A glance at the clock told him it was five in the morning; they had managed a whole four hours sleep. He considered letting the man sleep -- they really ought to both be exhausted. He grinned, and dismissed the thought. No point letting perfectly good waking time go to waste. He humped gently against Ezra's somnolent body, then slipped his hand between them to cradle Ezra's soft shaft. He petted it, moving his fingers in tiny strokes, swirls and circles, carefully exploring the folds and creases in the soft skin. He buried his pleased grin in Ezra's neck as the creases slowly disappeared under his touch, the compact shaft stretching and swelling until it no longer nestled in his palm, but rubbed across it, Ezra's hips moving minutely at first, and then gradually faster, and with more definite intent, until he was not surprised to have a hand grip his wrist and hold him still.

"Mornin', Ez," he smiled happily.

"Oh God," Ezra replied, and JD laughed silently. "What time is it?"

"Not time to get up," JD evaded, and Ezra groaned.

"I have a big case coming to a head this morning. Let me get--" he glanced at he clock, "oh God, let me get my last hour's sleep in?"

"But you're awake now," JD pointed out indisputably, and twisted his hand on Ezra's penis.

Ezra let out a gulped gasp. "D-don't!" But green eyes were opening, and regarding him sleepily, and JD pressed his mouth to Ezra's, confident of his welcome. He started moving his hand again as the kiss took them both over, Ezra's hand relaxing, then sliding down to play with JD's own shaft. Abruptly Ezra took control, rolling JD onto his back and pressing him down firmly. JD spread his legs and moaned, lifting his hips wantonly.

"Shh," Ezra whispered between kisses, "Let me--"

JD's breath came in little hitching sobs, as Ezra worked him with a firm, knowing hand. They'd learned a hell of a lot about each other last night. JD arched his back as Ezra bit at the very edge of his ear lobe, then licked behind it.

"Ezra!" Ezra seized another kiss, but pulled away just as JD started to think that he might actually come just from that, and bit again, this time nibbling his way down a line running from his scalp to the base of his shoulder, where he sucked, hard.

"Ez!" And he did come.

He settled slowly back out of the blur of sensation, and sighed at the feel of Ezra's cock rubbing along his perineum, stroking over his hole, the flared glans nudging momentarily on each stroke past. He wriggled, trying to get the head to go inside, but Ezra gripped his hips firmly, and nipped at his throat.

"Stop that," he ordered indulgently, and held still until JD stopped moving under him. "Better."

JD sighed, and instead closed his thighs around the long, hot shaft. His breath caught as Ezra thrust against him, pushing and pulling at his spent cock and balls, dragging painfully over hair and skin alike, causing a unsatisfied twitch deep inside. "Ez, please?" he begged, and Ezra just laughed.

"Patience," Ezra murmured, and JD growled, but relaxed his shoulders into the pillows.

His hands stroked mindlessly up and down Ezra's back, fingers fascinated by the curve of the rib cage, the knots that marked each vertebra. He cupped Ezra's ass cheeks then curled over and in so he could slide his hands further down, abdominal muscles protesting, until he could slide his two index fingers into Ezra's waiting little hole, soft and slippery from last night.

The tension snapped out of Ezra's body, and he arched his hips into JD, who took his turn at holding his partner still, the heel of each hand pushing down, fingers pushing in and controlling Ezra's body from just those points.

"Let me move," Ezra growled, his voice almost unrecognizable as his anus grasped at JD's fingers. He rocked, twisted, and his shaft rode roughly over JD's sensitive balls.

JD couldn't believe the whining sound coming from his throat, and stopped himself. "Can you -- like this?" He pushed his fingers deeper, and grimaced as his shoulders pulled painfully.

"Here." Ezra slid his arms high under JD's back, and the support was more than enough to ease the strain. "Good?"

"Good," JD agreed, and Ezra started moving between JD's thighs, JD following the rhythm with his fingers, driving them in as far as flesh and bone would allow, dragging them out, stretching the pliable muscle as wide as it would go. He had plans for that hole.

Ezra groaned at one particularly deep thrust, twisting down into his prostate, then cried out when JD found the angle again and repeated it, over and over. Ezra's eyes were closed, his whole body moving in syncopation to JD's thrusts, and JD leaned up, brushing his lips over Ezra's gasping mouth. Ezra dropped his head forwards and kissed him back, holding on to him, stroking and squeezing as he writhed, and gulped out fragments of words, until he wailed and collapsed on him, wetting the space between JD's legs with his come.

JD smiled, playing gently with Ezra's hole as the spasms slowly dwindled. He turned them onto their sides, cuddling Ezra close, and listened to his breathing slowing. The sound was hypnotic, and he let his eyes close. A small snore told him that Ez had tumbled straight back into sleep, and he laughed under his breath. Damn. But he hadn't managed more than a twitch of interest this time, so maybe it was for the best. He eased his fingers out and stretched his arms with a sigh. A last glance at the clock told him he still had forty-five minutes before the alarm started, and let sleep claim him too.

\---------------

"This is ridiculous," Ezra muttered darkly, riveted by the sight in the mirror. He resumed shaving as JD's naked butt disappeared from sight inside the shower and regretted it as the straight edge nicked him. "Ow!"

Blood gathered for a second and then dripped. Another drop hit his chest and left a bloody trail as it slowly slid down his wet skin. "Oh, _shit_." He ripped off a bit of tissue and dabbed at the cut. The tissue stuck and he gritted his teeth, ignoring it while he finished shaving, grimacing as the blood continued to run freely down his neck. He was dabbing at it as JD emerged from the shower.

"Oh, that's attractive," John laughed as he reached around him to his toothbrush, dripping water everywhere.

"You're just jealous," Ezra accused with a disdainful sniff. He used the towel to wipe up the blood, and only managed to smear it around. At this rate he was going to need another shower. He damped a corner and tried again, then found some cream and dabbed it on, "After all, at least I have something worth shaving." John pushed his cold, wet hands under the towel knotted at Ezra's waist and hefted Ezra's penis.

"Mmmm. Jealous, riiiight," he murmured around the dry toothbrush, and dodged away.

"You weren't complaining last night," he pointed out with a smirk. "That normally works better _with_ the Colgate?"

"Sure wasn't," he said cheerfully, and tugged at Ezra until they were facing. He snickered as JD removed the toothbrush, still sans toothpaste and kissed him. "I fuckin' love this." he said into Ezra's mouth, and Ezra hugged him tightly. "I fuckin' love _you_." He pulled back a little and looked uncertainly at Ezra, who felt as though John had somehow found the means to turn his brain into warm wax.

He shook his head and smiled. "I know."

JD stared for a moment, then collapsed against his shoulder, laughing helplessly.

"What?" Ezra demanded, "What did I say?"

It took laughing-boy several attempts to get a coherent sentence out. "You don't even know -- of course you don't know. It's even _better_!"

"What?!" He shook JD, slightly annoyed.

"You just turned me into Princess Leia."

Ezra blinked in bewilderment. "From Star Trek?"

"_Wars_! Star _Wars_! God, I can't believe I fell for someone who doesn't know the difference between Star Trek and Star Wars," JD laughed.

"Well, I can't believe I fell for someone who can't tell the difference between a 98 and a 95 Pinot Grigio," he snapped, a little hurt.

JD stopped, and his dark eyebrows drew together worriedly. "You're not pissed at me, are you? I mean, I didn't mean to laugh but I--" he hesitated. "I'd try to explain but I think it's going to lose something in the translation."

Ezra shrugged it away, but the sting rankled -- was it _his_ fault if he had chosen to focus his life on slightly more important things than geek culture? "It's fine, John," he said easily, and smiled. "I should go dress. I'll let you get to the basin."

He tried to pull himself out of JD's embrace and was surprised when the man's arms tightened on him.

"Ez, if you're mad at me, just say, okay? I don't want to go around making you mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, and we are going to be late. At least, _I_ am going to be late. I seem to remember from my student days that being late was something of an art form," he smiled, and JD quirked a smile back.

"I'm not gonna touch that one," he said. "Ez, I wasn't, you know, taking the piss or anything, it's just you completed a quote from a movie I watched a _lot_ as a kid, and it struck me as funny, okay?"

Ezra lifted an eyebrow, and said once more, "I know?"

"Yeah." He hugged him tightly and let him go. "Man, I always wanted to be able to say that to someone. Figures I'd end up as Leia." He chuckled again, and Ezra smiled tentatively. If there was a joke, perhaps it wasn't on him. "I am so gonna sit you down and make you watch them one of these days."

"How -- delightful," Ezra had no qualms at all about letting his horror at the prospect shine through. Sure enough JD laughed.

"And then I'll let you do whatever you want to educate me on _your_ culture stuff, okay? I'll even let you take me to see a ballet if you really want. Just one time, though," he added hastily.

Ezra grinned. "A handsome offer. Done." After all, how long could one movie take?

"Done!" JD grinned hugely.

A doubt shook him. "Ah, Star Wars is just the one movie, isn't it?"

JD suddenly became very absorbed in finally putting paste on his toothbrush. For someone who prided himself on bed to front door in under ten minutes he was sure taking his time.

"John?"

JD smiled happily at Ezra's reflection in the mirror, scrubbing in tiny, meticulously careful circles.

"JD?!"

He pointed with his other hand at his foaming mouth and shrugged, as if to say, what can I do?

"_Brat_," Ezra sighed, and went to get dressed.

JD smiled to himself. He was going to have to watch that. He was used to people who got his fannish jokes, or at least, just rolled their eyes and let them slide. It was funny though. Somehow he'd always pictured himself as Han Solo in that particular scenario, and to end up as Leia... His grin faded as he wondered _why_ Ezra didn't like it. He'd have to ask him some time, and then the thought slipped away as he finished getting ready to leave for the day. He finished up in the bathroom and dropped the towel on the floor, then wandered through Ezra's bedroom to get his own clothes from the room across the hall. Ezra was still carefully knotting his tie, jacket and pants laid out on the bed, and JD shook his head.

Shorts, jeans, long-sleeved tee, short sleeved t-shirt over it. Done. He wondered if it would ever take him as long to get dressed as it did Ezra. His sense of smug superiority was swiftly punctured when he couldn't find a single complete pair of socks for nearly ten minutes. The only pair left intact seemed to be the white gym socks, which set off a whole new train of thought -- if he wanted to keep up with Ezra he was going to have to keep in shape. He paused for a moment and grinned at the thought of keeping up with Ezra -- and then took another five minutes looking for his stuff for working out. Then ran down the stairs, dived into the study to pick up his laptop, and scooped his jacket from the back of the chair where Ezra must have hung it up, because he was pretty sure he hadn't.

"Ez?" he called, half expecting him still to be upstairs, primping.

"In here." JD followed his voice to the living room where Ezra was picking up and shaking out his clothes. "Nothing to be done except send it to be cleaned and hope for the best," he heard as he walked in.

"Those your pants?" JD asked of the rumpled grey trousers.

"Yes. They should be fine. Which is more than I can say of your shirt," he added, nodding to the article of clothing scattered across no less than three separate pieces of furniture. "I'd apologize except--"

They looked at each other and JD wondered if the grin stretching his face was as goofy as the one on Ezra's. "You can rip my shirt off anytime you like," he offered generously. "And look." He picked up the previous day's much abused, and now dubiously stained jeans, "Now they match!"

Ezra stared at him in disbelief for a moment, and then dropped his face in his hand. "A heathen. Dear God, I have taken up with a complete philistine." But his voice was suspiciously unsteady, and he could see the half smile without even trying.

Another ten minutes and they were heading their separate ways. JD smiled happily to himself as he headed into Denver. That last kiss as they left the house... He swallowed, his grin growing wider as shivers raced over him. Wow. Just. _Wow_.

Everything was just _perfect_.

\-----------------------------------

"Good morning, gentlemen!" Ezra said cheerfully as he walked in, and was promptly surrounded.

Vin seized the bag dangling from his hand without ceremony and ripped it open. "Mmmm, caramel," he grinned, and took both slices of chocolate-caramel shortbread, retreating rapidly with his prize.

"Hey!" Buck grumbled, and then spotted a blueberry donut. "Mmm." He took a huge bite, and asked, "Fwat bo' visson?"

Ezra smiled enigmatically and put the coffees down carefully. He took his own double espresso from the tray and stepped back hastily, before the vultures tried to take a hand along with the caffeine and sugar. "Oh, no reason, Mr. Wilmington." He sipped at the strong coffee, keeping his face as bland and uninformative as he knew how. They _certainly_ didn't need to know anything about the source of his good mood. Not after the onslaught of so called humor that had followed the last time.

Buck looked thoughtfully at him, and the expression in those dark blue eyes reminded him that although Agent Wilmington might act the clown, there was nothing wrong with his brains when he chose to use them.

"Huh. Y'have a nice time a'th'opera?" Buck didn't look at him as he asked, but examined the scribbles on the lidded cups then picked out one marked, a little mysteriously, MC. "Mmmm. Macchiato."

"The ballet," Ezra corrected, "and no, as it transpired we found better things to do." He could feel a smile tugging at his cheeks, and tried very hard to get rid of it.

Buck looked at him and smirked. "The sight of all those men in tights give you a need for some urgent lovin'?"

Ezra raised his eyebrows. "We did not, although I fail to see how this is of any relevance whatsoever to my decision to bring in coffee in order to ensure that you people are fully ready for the bust this morning, even make it to the ballet."

Vin stared at him. "How many sentences did you get inside that one poor li'l sentence?"

"Cruelty to dumb subordinate phrases, I'd say," Josiah agreed cheerfully, and took the bran muffin lingering lonely and ignored on the remains of the bag. Ezra looked around and shook his head, amused. Chris was peeling off pieces of chocolate muffin and nibbling at them cautiously in the vain hope of not getting crumbs on his suit before his meeting. Nathan was contentedly munching on the honey and raspberry granola bar that he'd included for him, and his own solitary almond macaroon had been thoughtfully placed in the drinks tray.

"Boys," Chris growled, and they scattered, not before Buck patted Ezra on the back.

"Glad you're happy, Ez," he said very quietly, and Ezra blinked, completely thrown. Wilmington's eyes held nothing but sincerity and he found it possible to nod.

"Very much so, Buck," he replied, just as quietly.

"Good. Just, well, good." And Buck walked away to his desk, leaving Ezra pleased, if puzzled. He gathered up his papers and his espresso, and made his way to the large conference table at the far end of the office. He carefully arranged his files as he waited for the others to gather, trying to figure out what Buck's angle was.

"Reckon someone might've had a word or two with him," Vin dropped in to the seat next to him, and slid a sidelong glance at him. "If you was wonderin'."

"Thank you."

"Nah, don't thank me." Vin shook his head and his eyes lingered on Chris Larabee, just emerging from his private office at the end of the room. "Think it'd take a mite more'n me to change Buck's mind once he's made it up."

"Chris?" Ezra said with considerable disbelief. Chris Larabee had intervened on his behalf with Buck?

"What? No!" Vin shook his head as he realized the misunderstanding. "I reckon Josiah had something to say to him. Might be he threatened to forget to turn that other cheek he talks about."

Ezra nodded, "I'll thank him later." He looked narrowly at Chris, wondering what it was about his relationship with John that had made Vin turn his gaze towards their boss when the subject came up. Vin himself looked uncomfortable, and wasn't that interesting too? Maybe Chris and Vin weren't quite as open minded as they had first seemed to be. It bore watching.

The rest of the team settled themselves around the table, and Chris looked at each, gathering their attention before speaking.

"Well, y'all know where I'm going to be today," he started brusquely, and the rest of them grinned at the annoyance in his voice. "More fuckin' budget cuts. Like we aren't pared to the bone already." Nothing but the need to put on a good front for the higher-ups and the bean counters would persuade Chris to don a suit. He did, Ezra admitted privately, look remarkably good in the deep charcoal suit, with a soft blue shirt, and a dark blue tie.

"Yup," Buck said. "Better you than me," he added heartlessly and Ezra chuckled with the rest.

"Your time will come, Buck," Chris warned, and moved on. "In fact, it's coming now. How's that meet shaping up, Agent?"

"Pretty good," Buck said easily, without looking at his notes. "Josiah and Psych have agreed that Ezra's assessment of the operation Lasater's got going is fundamentally sound." He glanced at Ezra, "'Course, you're the one going in -- you happy with the plan?" He looked at the others as well, "Any problems, now's the time to raise them."

"I'm fine," Vin said. "Got my spot marked out, as long as me'n' Nathan're in place before anyone else shows up, we're good."

"Okay then -- Josiah, I'm going to sit surveillance with you, so we need to get that van up as close as we can without upsetting the perps." Buck began. Chris was shaking his head. "What's wrong with that?" Buck asked. "We went over this at the last meeting and you--"

"No, no, the plan's sound, but I just got word this morning. Sorry, Buck, guys. Vin's gonna have to sit this one out." He wouldn't look at Tanner, and Ezra wondered what exactly was going on. Larabee only usually avoided eye contact when attempting to obfuscate. Whatever Tanner was wanted for officially, it was a good bet that it bore little resemblance to reality.

"What?!" Vin's protest was drowned by Buck's voice.

"You're fuckin' kiddin' me!"

"Chris, the whole plan of attack is predicated on having two snipers in position." Josiah said hastily, apparently trying to ease past Buck's outrage before Chris lost his temper too, "How are we going to--"

"I know, I know. But HR are on my back about Vin's certification status, and today's pretty much the last day before they put their foot down," he kept talking over their protests that surely tomorrow would be adequate, "No, if he waits to tomorrow it lapses, and we have to wait a month for the whole thing to go through as a new application."

"This is fuckin' _bullshit_, Chris," Vin's voice rose over the others, and abruptly the room was quiet.

"Vin, drop it. This is final." The two men glared at each other, and Ezra had the curious feeling that some sort of message, perhaps concerning him, was being exchanged as Vin's eyes dropped, flickering for a second in his direction. "We can discuss it later, if you want. Now, I've got Agent Hardie from Team Nine in to cover the gap left -- Buck?"

Buck sighed. "Guess I need to go bring her up to speed." He looked mournfully at Chris. "It had to be Hardie, didn't it?"

Chris shook his head innocently, "I don't know what you mean," he replied. Just because Almetta Hardie had shot down Buck's every attempt to 'get to know her', culminating in the moment when she had resorted to bringing a girlfriend to an office event, and telling anyone that would listen that Claire was her _girlfriend_, and please, someone, anyone, please just tell Buck that she had turned gay or something... Ezra stifled a grin, and caught Nathan's eyes as he rubbed a hand over his mouth to conceal his expression. It was fatal, as both sets of shoulders started quivering with suppressed sniggers that rapidly spread to Josiah and Vin too.

Buck glowered at Chris, and then shared it with the rest of the men. "I know where you live, Larabee," he grumbled. "As for the rest of ya..." He stood, "I'll be back in a minute."

\-----------------------------

"...And shall we say, in the interests of amity, I sweeten the deal with a small gift of my own?"

Buck frowned at the tiny video relay, watching Ezra, or rather at this precise moment in time, Ezekiel McKenzie, smiling benignly at Skyane Lasater, assuring him that not only would he buy his illegal alcohol, he was interested in more, and would Mr. Lasater care for a bottle of something like bonnavarry twenty year reserve. Mr. Lasater sounded extremely appreciative.

"Is that in the script?" he asked no one in particular. "That's not in the script, Ez. We don't need to make friends with the guy, we just gotta bust his ass."

Josiah was sitting next to him, shaking his head. "Ezra, Ezra, what are you doing?" he murmured. "Keep to the script. Leave the improvisation to the experts--"

"Jackson here," Nathan's voice came through, harsh with bewilderment. "What's happening, Buck? How the hell am we supposed to go in when he won't give the signal word?"

"I don't know!" He keyed a mic. "Ez," he hissed, "what the hell are you doing? Is there a problem? Lift your right hand if there's a problem and you want us to come in." He turned back to the screen, earphone pressed with one hand to his head, as though the extra pressure could bring the desired words.

"Hardie to Wilmington, is there a problem, sir?"

Buck rolled his eyes at the relentlessly polite edge to Almetta's voice. "If all y'all would just shut up a minute, I'm tryin' to find out."

The radio fell quiet. "Ezra, I repeat, lift your right hand if you want an assist."

Ezra and Lasater simply kept on talking.

"Come on, Ezra, raise your hand, come on! What are you _doing_?" Josiah hunched forwards, watching anxiously. "What's going on in that head of yours? Come on, give us a clue."

"Come on, Standish, you dumb fuck, throw us a bone here!" Buck growled. "What the hell does he think he's doing?"

The man on the tiny screen reached out to shake hands with Lasater. Buck threw up his hands in despair. Where was the frigging sign?

"Was that our signal?" Nathan asked over the radio, and Buck shook his head, his face a picture of frustration.

"I don't know! He hasn't used any of the keywords!" He toggled the mic again. "Ez! Is the bust a go or not?"

"Oh, I should say not at all, Mr. Lasater," Ezra appeared to be speaking to Lasater, but Josiah caught a sly look up at the camera that Wilmington had planted hours before the meet.

"That's for us, Buck," he said, and leaned back, the light chair creaking under the change in position.

"Are we going in or what?" Nathan asked with quiet urgency. "They're breaking up, the meeting's over! What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know, but there's going to be hell to pay when Chris finds out," Buck muttered. "Shit." He glanced at Josiah, who shrugged. "Shit. This was meant to be a fucking milk run."

"Your call, Buck," he said helpfully.

"Mine, huh?" He glared at the television screen for a long moment as the various people inside the building began packing up, and swore again. "Fuck it." He keyed his microphone to broadcast to all users. "All points, abort. Do not break cover. Repeat, do not break cover." He flipped his microphone off and added through gritted teeth. "I am going to kill him."

"Perhaps he has a plan."

"If he had a plan he should have let me know about it!" Buck said furiously. "When I get my hands on that idiot..."

\-------------------------------------------

Well, it didn't take long for today to go completely to hell, Ezra thought resignedly. I really should have laid myself odds on not keeping that mood for more than three hours. He thought about it. No, he wouldn't have taken any odds that he could have offered. Never bet against the house, he reminded himself ruefully, and tuned back in just in time for the end of Buck's tirade.

"--what the hell you were thinking!" Buck yelled, slamming his hands down on the table and looming over Standish. "Were you thinking at _all_?"

Chris said sharply, "Sit down, Buck!" and waited, his lips a thin line, until the bigger man settled reluctantly, his eyes never moving from Ezra's face, not a hint of a smile on his usually cheerful face. "Report, Standish." His stony gaze added, 'this had better be good.'

Ezra's eyes flicked around the room, and found no allies. Only Vin was missing, apparently still at his re-certification despite the late hour. All the rest of team were there, watching him with various degrees of confusion. He was vaguely grateful that Agent Hardie had been thanked and dismissed -- they might be planning on tearing him into tiny little pieces, but they were going to do it in private.

"I am quite willing to write this up and discuss it when tempers are a little less frayed," he began.

"Chicken," Nathan muttered, and at Chris's irritated glance added a perfunctory, "Sorry."

"But as you wish." He paused, trying to bring his thoughts into some semblance of order. "Chris, I believe I said yesterday that I felt there were some outstanding issues relating to the Lasater case." He looked at Larabee, who simply stared back, no help there.

"It was while we were discussing the delivery process of the illegal alcohol that Mr. Lasater's words deviated substantially from the scenario we had envisaged."

"Deviated?" Buck and Chris both said, and Chris sat back, a glance between them more than sufficient to agree to leave the debrief to Wilmington.

"How do you mean, 'deviated'?" Buck asked, leaning forward intently.

"You will recall that we thought that he had taken advantage of a random shipment." Ezra turned to talk directly to him; Chris had given him the floor, it was up to Ezra to convince the rest of them. He concentrated on breathing steadily, easily. He had to project calm, confidence. Stay cool.

Josiah nodded slowly, "That was how Psych saw the perp, and frankly, so did I. If not random, then not regular, and certainly not major. More an add on to a legitimate shipment. You saw something different?"

Ezra nodded, turning to face him. "Yes, indeed. I initially wondered why a man whose business was organized so thoroughly would use an ad hoc supply system such as the profile suggested."

Josiah regarded him without a hint of the thoughts behind his pale blue eyes. Ezra waited a moment, and went on.

"I didn't say anything because, well, I was confident that Josiah's psychological profile was superior to my own doubts, especially as I had nothing beyond gut instinct."

Josiah shook his head. "That's all profiling is sometimes, Ezra. Gut instinct and a lot of education."

Ezra met Josiah's eyes with a certain feeling of surprise. He hadn't expected Josiah to take this so easily. "I'm sure it is far more than that, Mr. Sanchez," he said politely, and steepled his fingers for a moment, staring at them, and then sighed. "I would have followed through the bust with the scheduled take down, except, as we were discussing the liquor supply, Mr. Lasater mentioned that if I required such a quantity on a _regular_ basis that he could arrange it."

"Regular?" Nathan asked, a look of sharp interest on his face. "Well, now."

Ezra visibly relaxed his shoulders and sat back in his chair at the dawning comprehension on his colleagues' faces.

Larabee cocked his head, looking for clarification. "I thought he was a penny-ante merchant that we just wanted to clear discrepancies on?"

"Exactly," Ezra said. He looked at Buck, "I apologize, Mr. Wilmington--"

"Forget it, Ez." Buck waved a dismissive hand at Ezra's apology. "I just wish you'd'a had a way to tell us, but I get why you didn't." He stopped as though done, and then added, "I just wanted to know what was going on, you know? You changing the game plan on me halfway through -- it just threw me, all of us, a little."

"I appreciate that." Ezra said amiably, and then his face hardened. "But next time you want to know what I'm doing, trust me that I am not just 'going off on one'." His eyes stayed squarely on Buck's, which fell. Ezra didn't show a hint of his regret that some of what he was saying was if not exactly a lie, was only half the truth. Lasater had let the information slip -- but at the same time, Ezra had had his suspicions and could have shared them beforehand, instead of grandstanding during the intended bust.

"Yeah, I guess," he said weakly. He shook his head, "But if you had just mentioned that you had doubts about the profile--"

"I wasn't sure if they had any merit." He shrugged, trying to shuffle the accusation away, unsure whether he was lying or telling the truth. Maybe he had sabotaged himself. Maybe his plan for changing the game had been a ploy to deal with his own lack of confidence instead of the lack that he thought he saw in his colleagues. He frowned, thoughts churning in a vicious cycle.

"Dammit, Ez," Buck snapped, "You're the guy in there. It's your assessments that we base the damn profiles off in the first place. If you think there's something off and you don't tell us, what are we supposed to do? Be mind readers? I asked you this morning, I asked _everyone_ if they had any last minute thoughts or questions! You should have raised that _then_, not keep it to yourself and change the game plan under our feet! What if you decide not to tell us something one day, and you're right, and you end up dead?"

Ezra blinked a little. Somewhere in there was a compliment on his ability to judge character, right along with a slam at his willingness to trust.

"You're just lucky that Lasater was a milk run. Next time you get a hunch, tell us _before_ you go in, so if you end up playing it, we're not left swinging in the breeze."

"My apologies, Buck," Ezra said, and meant it. He smirked a little, "Next time I'll let everyone know that you're goin' to be swingin' in the breeze, so we can get footage of the occasion."

Buck shook his head and looked at Chris, who picked up smoothly.

"So. Mr. Lasater has connections?" Chris asked, leaning back in his chair, his eyes half shut. He sounded as if he didn't care one way or the other, and Ezra wanted to grin madly. The less interested Larabee sounded, half the time, the more focused he was on bringing down their opponents.

Of course, the other half, he really wasn't interested. But he'd stake good money that Larabee was interested.

"So I believe. The immediate question of course is who, and how?"

"And what else is being run into the country on this 'regular route' that he's found?" Josiah added, a small, hard smile in his eyes.

"Exactly, Mr. Sanchez."

Josiah shook his head regretfully. "I missed this completely."

"We all did," Chris soothed, and Josiah shook his head.

"Ezra didn't."

Ezra stared at Sanchez for a long moment, dumbfounded, before shaking his head. "No, I merely followed up what Mr. Wilmington would call a hunch. There was nothing I could put a finger on. Something not quite right in the psych report."

"What?" Chris asked tersely.

Ezra shrugged, and at Chris's irritated look added, "I -- as close as I can explain it, it was in the way Lasater structured things. That and my impressions of the man. I can't pin it closer than the level of organization. It just felt off."

"How? What was it? Ezra, if we can pin it down it's a new avenue to investigate," Nathan said.

Ezra tensed. "I _know_ that! I went over the files again and again, trying to pin it down!"

Josiah intervened. "Why did the organization feel off?"

Ez looked around. He couldn't read Chris. The man's tells were nearly as well concealed as his own. Josiah was honestly interested; as ever fascinated by the prospect of finding out something he hadn't known before. Wilmington and Jackson were both looking doubtful; Buck a little disgruntled, still chafing at Ezra's unilateral change of plans. Jackson was simply watching him, waiting for him to speak.

"There was too much of it. I can't explain any better than that," he said, and waited.

Josiah frowned. "Too much--"

"How does he have too much organization?" Buck asked. "What doesn't fit? What's off key?"

"Is it the number of people?" Nathan asked, and shrugged when the others looked. "He has a hell of a lot of staff -- how's he paying for them all, and _why_."

"He's running a big show, Nathan," Josiah said patiently. "Even the legit operation makes sense in terms of manpower--"

"No, no, it's not the _number_ of people, it's the manner of it. Too much organization." Ezra nodded as his own thoughts clarified just by trying to justify his 'feeling' to his colleagues. "Yes, yes. That's it. It doesn't fit. Mr. Lasater owns three liquor stores. He supplies legal alcoholic beverages to a further ten stores, mostly in Colorado, two out of state."

"We know all this," Buck said sharply. "The point?"

Ezra glared at him. "The _point_, Agent, is that his records are meticulous, and he has people at every level recording everything. Everything is regimented, organized. Almost pathologically so. He doesn't like unknowns. He talked to me because I was known to McPherson and Evans. So why allow his criminal activities to be disorganized? He micro-manages everything else and not this?"

"Huh," Nathan said thoughtfully. "When you put it that way, some sort of ad hoc, it comes in when it comes in kinda deal does seem sort of out of character."

"Okay, I can buy that," Buck nodded at Chris then looked back at Ezra. "And now we know they _aren't_ irregular, there's got to be a lot more under the surface than we're seeing right now."

"He's right," Josiah said, chagrined. "We should have picked up on that."

"Not your fault -- I should have shared my thoughts on the subject," Ezra counter-apologized, and Chris held up his hand.

"We'll skip the recriminations and might-ofs, okay?"

Everyone nodded.

"Just having a regular route means we're going to have to look a whole lot deeper," Nathan pointed out, and Buck nodded.

"Nathan's right," Buck said slowly, and glanced at Chris. Chris gestured for him to carry on, and he turned his gaze on Ezra seriously, and said, "So, you okay with going in deeper?"

Ezra felt his heart stop for an instant. It was the logical consequence. He felt as though his lips were stiff as he spoke, "Yes, that is the obvious next step." He couldn't think of anything to say. All he could think was, not today. Please, not today. "When?" He cleared his throat, "I mean, McKenzie is a pretty low level cover."

"We didn't expect it to have to survive past today," Josiah said with a certain amount of annoyance, then grimaced in apology. "I know, I know. You did the right thing."

"Next time something feels off, Standish," Chris said, a sharp edge to his voice, "tell us." Ezra steeled himself for the reprimand he was expecting, and nearly let his jaw drop with surprise when Chris added, "You've got good instincts. And god knows you've got a mouth on you. Next time, use 'em."

It wasn't exactly a ringing endorsement, but on the other hand, he hadn't expected _anything_. He couldn't stop a small smile forming. "Yes, sir."

"Buck, I'm leaving this to you." Chris sat back and then stood. "Good work, guys."

As the door closed behind him, Buck grinned and rubbed his hands. "Okay, so, what've we got?"

Ezra's mind was still stuck on the 'going in deeper'. "You want me to make the cover complete?"

Buck nodded. "Yeah, we'd better. I'll see what we can round up in the way of places to live for you. Josiah--" he paused and started again. "Ezra, you and Josiah want to build a background for McKenzie? Nathan, can you liaise between them and IT, see about getting the details inserted once you're all happy with them."

"No problem." Nathan said cheerfully. He grinned a little, "I'll go talk to Rain Brett, see what she thinks about getting the cover in fast."

Ezra shook his head in mock sorrow, "Mr. Jackson, surely you aren't proposin' to talk to your girlfriend on office time?"

"She's not my girlfriend," Nathan said quickly, and then smiled widely, "But I sure wouldn't mind a chance for a little one on one time, if you know what I mean."

Buck chuckled, "Hoo-wee, it's catching, Josiah, it's catching."

"Watch yourself, Buck," Josiah said mildly, "As I recall you're the one who dates the most out of our happy band of brothers."

"I date but I ain't been caught and I ain't _planning_ on getting caught," Buck said smugly, and let his eyes slide from Nathan to Ezra and back, "now, _these_ boys..."

Ezra blinked. Well, it wasn't exactly as though Buck was wrong. He didn't really mean to smile; only really realized that was what he was doing when he found the others grinning back at him.

"Oh, he's got it _bad_," Buck said.

"The Lasater case, gentlemen?" Ezra said cheerfully.

\-------------------------------------------

Vin scowled and pushed the stack of papers away from him, rubbing his hand across his face and then through his hair. Bad enough that he was supposed to be researching this kid. Worse that Larabee had lied to the team. Worst of all, he was starting to get a really bad feeling about the whole business.

JD supposedly inherited that money of his from a trust. But no one died in his family except his mother in the last twelve months. His mother had died without any assets to her name. If she'd left anything it fell into the personal mementoes category, not the half a million dollars one. The kid hadn't had any significant birthdays recently either, not turning twenty one or anything that might account for it. No other family that he could trace. There was no lawyer. No tax declaration. No probate.

Just a massive amount of debt from his mother's long illness. About three months ago it had to have become damn clear to the kid that he was going under.

He sighed as he looked at the array of papers. Four jobs. Stacking shelves at Wal-Mart evenings. Fixing cars weekends. Flipping burgers days. Cleaning windows in the early mornings. The kid had to have been running himself ragged just to keep up with his bills. He'd _needed_ that half a million dollars.

He'd been trying and nothing he could do was good enough. A kid in that position might be tempted to do stuff that he'd never otherwise consider.

"Damn," Vin cursed softly and then shook his head. No getting soft. He remembered the way the kid smiled at Ezra, and the way Ezra had looked back. He liked Ezra. Trusted his instincts. If Ezra said someone was clean, he took him at his word. Chris was just too chicken to ask. From what he knew now, he was starting to feel a nagging sympathy for the kid too.

"Damn." He _was_ getting soft.

Ezra was the best thing that could have happened to the kid. And he was starting to think that JD was pretty good for Ezra too. He'd known families go under from the weight of that sort of crushing debt. And one half grown kid...

Pretty much the only thing left for him had been filing for personal bankruptcy under the sheer weight of the debts that caring for his mother's last years had left him, along with the student loans, credit cards, and other, minor bills. And then suddenly in, late July he vanishes. Completely out of sight, all his payments made on time, in cash, but not a trace of where he went or how he got there. Then, after vanishing for nearly a month, he reappears with money. His debts are cleared, he's left with a nice chunk of change, and he's living with one Ezra P. Standish without so much as a word of explanation.

Come to think of it, Ezra never had said exactly why JD was living with him. Vin reddened, well, beyond the obvious.

Vin rubbed at his eyes. He hadn't been able to backtrack the money out of the trust. It had come to a dead end in the Cayman Islands, and no one there was remotely willing to offer him any information they didn't have to -- and they didn't have to give him jack shit. So he was left with just questions.

Where was the kid in August? Who put the money in a trust for the kid, and where did that money come from?

And how and why did he end up with Ezra?

Why did Ezra invite him into his home? What did the kid have on him?

He stretched his back and arms, then twisted, muscles pulling in his shoulders and neck. Too much sitting staring at papers. He slouched down and contemplated quitting for the day, maybe going to find a pickup game. The local kids usually had something going; sometimes it was even legal.

Right now, unless things had gone seriously wrong, Buck and the rest of the team were processing that Lasater guy through the system. He frowned. He'd've heard if anything had gone wrong by now. Chris and his damn paranoia. He ought to have been there, but no, Chris lied to the rest of them and dragged Vin off 'to re-qualify down at the range'.

A slow smile spread over his face. Well, hell. If Chris said it, then maybe he oughta do it. At least that way his story wouldn't get broke with just one question to the right person.

He could do with some exercise. Clear his head. Maybe practice with any new rifles that the range had in. He nodded decisively and stood. The papers were bundled up together and he locked them away in his desk drawer.

He wished that Larabee had just out and asked Ezra. He pulled on his jacket and hefted his keys, letting them jingle. Fine. If Larabee was too chicken shit to ask Ezra, he'd do it.

\--------------------------------------------------

"Hey, Ez, wanna meet up?" John's bright voice resounded from the phone, and Ezra winced. He'd tried to convince the boy that he didn't need to shout, but it hadn't really taken.

"Meet up?"

"Yeah. I'm going to be late at the lab, I'm running a simulation on the mainframe and it's got about eight thousand iterations to go, so I figured, I might as well get some fun out of it."

Ezra repressed a smile. "If I pretend I understood that sentence will you promise not to repeat it."

"Oh, man, sorry, Ez. I'm running one of my programs, see, and--"

"John -- that part about you promising not to repeat it?"

John laughed. "Sorry. I can leave it running, I don't need to be here until it ends, but that's not going to be till late, and I thought maybe we could go see a movie or something?" Ezra frowned as he tried to place the tone of voice, and then he felt like finding the boy this minute and kissing him breathless. Of all things he sounded shy. "And I found this place that you might like to eat at, and after I messed up your plans for last night..."

Ezra shook his head and lowered his voice. "I don't regret one thing about last night."

There was silence from the other end of the phone, and Ezra asked, "John?"

"That's good, Ez," he sounded like he was smiling. "Can I -- would you-- I mean, if you're not busy or anything."

"I'm not busy." Good Lord, he thought with some bemusement, is he asking me out on a date? "When did you want to meet?"

"Can, can I pick you up?"

"From here?" He had a momentary vision of himself sitting on the back of JD's Kawasaki, in the cheap suit he had worn for the bust.

"If it's a problem--"

"That's fine. What time?"

"Ah. Actually, I'm kind of outside right now."

Ezra glanced at his wrist watch. "It's only four."

"But I'll bet lunch was a long time ago. Can't you leave early?" JD wheedled, "Please? It's a great day, and it's still pretty quiet on the roads."

"I can't just disappear because it's a sunny day."

"You _can't_?" JD said with mock surprise.

"Some people have work to do, you know."

"'Verk'? Vhat is this 'verk' thing you speak of?" he said with some kind of hokey European accent.

Ezra laughed under his breath. "I'm going to have to make up the time eventually."

"Yeah, but that's _eventually_," the kid urged. Ezra was already removing his shoulder holster and gun, and pulling on his jacket. If he was going to spend time in deep cover going after Lasater, then the least he could do was leave a little early today, and make his lover happy. A shiver ran through him, and he found himself half smiling again.

"I'll be down momentarily."

"Cool." John hung up, and Ezra pocketed the cell phone.

"JD?" Buck asked with a smirk. Ezra ignored him as he locked his gun into his desk drawer, retrieved his breath mints and shut down the computer.

"You see the man grinning like that over anyone else?" Nathan asked cheerfully. A little too cheerfully.

Ezra looked at him thoughtfully, and asked, "The delectable Miss Brett agreed to accompany you this evening?"

Nathan's grin could have lit Denver. "Sure did. Going to take her to this great little Thai restaurant, and maybe see a movie if she wants after."

"Just remember my tips, and you'll be fine," Buck told him with a look of smug superiority.

"Yeah, remember his tips and avoid doing them, and maybe you won't end up slapped by the end of the evening," Chris said dryly.

"I don't get slapped!" Buck said indignantly. "Ow!" Josiah smirked as he dodged neatly out of range of any retaliation.

"No?" was all the big man said, and Buck pouted.

"Ez's off on a date; Nate's _finally_ got somewhere with little Rain Brett." He heaved a huge sigh. "I guess I'll go drown my sorrows somewhere."

"Let me guess," Ezra asked, pulling his coat over his jacket. "Would this 'somewhere' be a wine bar?"

"A _Mexican_ wine bar?" Nathan chimed in.

"With a pretty Mexican owner?" Chris finished off.

Three sets of eyes met, and as one they looked back at Buck. "Nunca!"

"She's comin' round, I'm tellin' ya." Buck insisted over their laughter. "You heading out now, Ez?"

"John -- JD is waiting downstairs for me." He really couldn't help the way his voice seemed to soften.

"Now that is just too cute," Buck made a long arm and ruffled Ezra's hair.

"I am not _cute_."

Buck's eyebrows flicked up and down. "I know _someone_ who don't agree with you. Seems to me he thought you were mighty cute last Friday night. And Saturday morning," he added airily, waggling his eyebrows again, a knowing grin on his face.

"I'm waiting on support services for the status of my proposed cover story," Ezra said coolly, trying very hard to ignore the rush of memory. "There is almost nothing I can do until it is in place, so if I may?"

Chris shook his head. "God forbid any of the rest of you pair off. Your brains aren't for shit like this, that's for damn sure." His glower slipped into a faint smile and he jerked his head towards the door. "Git, the pair of ya. Try to have your minds on the job tomorrow."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Larabee, sir!" Ezra said smartly, and Nathan bounced to his feet.

"For real?"

"I can change my mind..."

"I'm gone!" Jackson grabbed his jacket and whirled out, not even stopping to change his shoes.

Ezra was right behind him, and they smiled at each other as they waited by the elevators. Even at that distance they could quite clearly hear Larabee's "Buck, get back here!"

Or the whining, "Awww, Chris, old buddy, old pal..."

* * *


	16. Mutatis mutandis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Love is not love, which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove..._ (Shakepeare, Sonnet 116). What might be described as change management for beginners with trust issues.__

JD shifted uneasily, watching the main entrance to the federal building as he waited for Ezra to emerge. The two security guards were still watching him, and he was pretty sure that if Ez didn't show soon, one or both of them would be walking back across to 'politely' ask him to move, hands on guns as they did so. The taller of them had already marched over once and given him the third degree over why he was sitting there -- apparently the guard thought he was part of a terrorist plot -- and he was clearly getting antsy again, talking urgently to his colleague and gesturing at JD.

He wondered if Ezra would bail him out if they arrested him, and what was keeping him. He looked up at the federal building. It was a big building. Maybe he'd gotten lost en route. Or maybe Mr. Larabee had found some work for him -- he pulled his phone from his pocket but there were no messages or missed calls. Huh. He fiddled with the tags on his backpack where it sat between his knees on the saddle, popping them open and shut, open and shut. It made sense, he guessed, not letting people hang around the place who weren't supposed to be there, but he wished Ez would hurry up.

Just as the guard started walking back over to him, a sour look on his face and his hand on the holster at his hip, Ezra emerged, looked around, and spotted JD waving. He headed for JD with a brief smile, standing close enough to kiss, looking down at JD as he sat on the motorcycle, although they didn't so much as touch. He stifled the urge to fix that, thinking, not here. Not if Ezra doesn't want to be out.

"Ez." He smiled up at his lover, and couldn't stop the shiver as their eyes met. He'd said it; they were lovers; Ezra loved him. Contracts be damned.

"John." Ezra's eyes warmed, even if his face didn't really show it, and then he brushed a hand over JD's where it was gripping the backpack, and it gave him a little courage.

"Missed you," he whispered, a little uncertain.

"In only eight hours? My, you have got it bad," Ezra teased gently. JD ducked his head, reddening. Stupid, he'd been stupid to think -- He felt a hand cup his chin and lift his head, and had to swallow hard when Ezra added, "How astonishing to find that I am in that very self same condition."

He wanted to taste him so much it felt like a physical twisting in his gut to hold back.

"I've got a helmet for you." He held the spare out between them, warding off any attempt at public kissing or anything like that. No point ruining Ezra's rep at work. His eyes flickered around but no, there were people watching.

Ezra rolled his eyes briefly, and grimaced. "I am not dressed for riding something with two wheels."

JD looked nervously at the bag in his hands for a moment, and then pulled the newly purchased jacket out of it. "Would this help?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the dull black leather, wondering, again, if it was a mistake. But he'd seen it, and he'd had this mental image... and he _wanted_ to give him things.

Ezra's well manicured fingers took the proffered item and shook it out with neat, economical movements. "I don't recollect owning this particular item?"

JD squirmed. "I thought it would -- I can take it back, I just--"

"JD? It's okay." The unexpected name jerked his eyes up to meet Ezra's. The man was smiling and JD smiled with relief. "Hold this." He slipped off his suit jacket and handed it over, then pulled the leather jacket on, zipping it partially. "How does that look?"

"Uh--" JD couldn't speak. He swallowed and absently folded the suit jacket over and over until it was in wad. "Good." His eyes slid down Ezra's body and back up, and he repeated, "Real good."

Ezra grinned. "I'm so glad that I really did not care what happened to this suit." He nodded at the crumpled jacket and JD looked down, and hastily shook it out.

"Sorry," he began and Ezra shook his head.

"Don't trouble yourself. I wore it for the operation this morning, and as such it is most certainly not one I have any great amount of money or affection vested in. Now, had it been one of my _other_ suits..."

JD carefully folded it up. "Sorry, Ez."

"Quite," but he smiled to take the sting out of the comment, and added, "Now this," he stroked his leather sleeve, "this is beautiful. Both for the giver's sake and for the gift itself." He lifted his eyes from the jacket to JD, who was pretty sure he couldn't string even two words together right now. "Thank you."

JD nodded, and decided that the first chance he got he was going back to that store and buying the leather pants after all. His throat dried, and he had to swallow before he could speak again. He tried to sound casual. "You're--" his voice cracked and he tried again, "You're welcome." He pushed the suit jacket into his backpack and closed it up, swung it onto his shoulders.

"Did you have specific plans for our evening?" Ezra asked him, letting the moment fade, and JD shook his head, then nodded.

"Yeah, kind of. There's this restaurant? It's not far, but I know it's kind of early, so if you aren't hungry we can do something else instead, if you prefer, I don't mind. Because we can go eat or we can do something else first, whatever you want."

"When are you expected back at your 'lab'?" Ezra asked calmly, as though JD hadn't just turned into a babbling idiot.

JD took a deep breath and steadied his nerves. If he liked the place, he liked it. And if he didn't, he didn't. Neither thing would affect how Ezra felt about him. Hopefully. "Oh, uh, you know, whenever. I should definitely get back before midnight when they start pushing people out. It's supposed to be finished by eight, but you don't have to wait around for me, and I can go in tomorrow if you'd prefer." He chanced a small smile, "You've been doing all this stuff for me..."

"That's okay, if you need to work, god knows I can hardly object." Ezra looked as though he was going to add something, but when he spoke, it was simply to say, "I could eat." He grimaced, "Lunch was not a priority today."

"Great! I mean, not great that you didn't eat, but -- oh, shut up and get on," he finished as Ezra laughed softly. He kept one eye on the security guard who had paused when Ezra had arrived; the man was now slowly walking towards them. "Ez?"

Ezra sighed, and pulled the helmet over his head reluctantly.

"Great!" JD pulled his own in place, and kicked the stand free. "Hang tight."

Ezra settled behind him, and gingerly gripped his waist. Five minutes later he was stumbling off of the machine again as JD immobilized it.

"What on earth makes you imagine that anyone would attempt to steal that thing?" Ezra asked, sounding a little rattled. Maybe Ezra wasn't used to riding motorcycles, JD thought. The sharply taken corners and rapid threading through the traffic came back to him, along with the death grip on his hips. Oops. Maybe he should have taken things a little easier. Oh well. He'd get used to it. He pulled his helmet off and ruffled his hair until it was no longer matted to his scalp.

"You never know," he told him. "She's pretty sound underneath, and the cops won't look twice at a kid on her."

Ezra looked around them and nodded. "That is self evident. I can't imagine why--"

"Because I thought you might like this place, and I'm guessing you've never been." JD smiled nervously. For the first time, he was seeing the buildings through Ezra's eyes, and the old fashioned, quiet street suddenly looked dilapidated, dangerous and dirty.

"You would guess correctly," Ezra sounded politely horrified, and JD bit his lip. Oh, this was such a bad idea, and he had no choice now, not after getting Geoff and Jenny to let them in early.

"Ez?"

"I am in your hands," Ezra said, and placed a hand on JD's shoulder. "Now, where is this vaunted establishment?" JD smiled wider, Ezra's gesture left him feeling light with relief. He was going to give it a try, and he was bound to like it once he'd tried it. He squashed the niggling worry that Ezra, with his sophisticated tastes and manner was going to hate slumming.

"In here," was all he said, and he led Ezra down an alley, trying to pretend he didn't notice the smell, and then into an anonymous door halfway down it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ezra followed him down the corridor, taking in the plainly painted walls, and the clean floor. It was better kept than he had initially expected. Well, perhaps this would be bearable. His eyes settled on John's tense shoulders, and he shook himself. The man was trying. He could readily endure worse in the course of work, so this, when at least the company would be more than welcome, should be a snap. A rich, distinctive scent caught his nose, and he sniffed, and his eyebrows twitched upwards. "Curry?"

"Nearly. Indian. It's the only place I know in Denver that does it right, and you have to know someone before you can get in," JD told him and headed up the dingy flight of stairs that had been concealed behind the internal door.

Ezra frowned a little, wondering if this really was such a good place for a law enforcement official to find himself. JD looked back at him as he reached another door, and Ezra held out his hand, brushing it over JD's cheek.

"You okay?" JD asked, puzzled. Ezra smiled, and pulled him in close, and slipped his arms securely around him.

"I believe in the rush to get away from the office, we omitted something important," he said softly. He smiled down into the frowning eyes, and added, "Hi," from millimeters away, and JD relaxed, and tilted his face up for the kiss that Ezra wasted no further time in giving him.

And just like that, the whole world fell away, leaving just the smell of JD's clean skin, and the soft rasp of his late afternoon stubble, the warmth of his tongue, and the sweet tenderness of his lips. He closed his eyes and it was, it was everything; the sound and the scent, and the strong, warm body pressed against him, and the arms holding him...

"Ez... Ezra," he whispered against Ezra's mouth.

"John?" Ezra pulled back a little, opening his eyes.

There was a small, wondering smile on his lover's lips as he whispered, "How did I get this lucky?"

Oh. Ezra touched his fingers to John's cheek, tracing the line of the bone. John's eyes closed, and he tilted his face into Ezra's touch.

"Ah, John," he said, and gently touched his lips to John's again. It was like drinking a fine brandy, warming him from the center out. His hands felt as though they might tremble if he looked at them. Sweet fire spreading through his blood. Too good to be real, surely? Those touches made his bones dissolve, made him forget every hard lesson learned. He pulled him in close, savoring the solid warmth of John's body, as close as clothes and propriety would allow, breathing into his neck as they leaned into each other. He nibbled at the line of his throat, following it up to his ear, and then kissed his way back down. Ezra smiled as he registered the little eager noises John was making as he kissed across Ezra's skin urgently, drifting in until their lips met. He could feel tension of his muscles dissolving as John stroked his back, his hands slipping under the leather jacket to rub over the thin cotton of his shirt, only that between their bare skin, and that barely enough, and too much.

John moaned wordlessly, and Ezra felt the urgent swell against his thigh answering his own blinding need.

"Lucky...?" Ezra breathed, and kissed him, hard. With an effort he drew back again; JD looked dazed, his lips parted a little, eyes half lidded. He drew a deep breath, and rested his forehead against JD's. "Food first."

"Okay," JD agreed, but made no attempt to move away.

"We ought to either go in or move on," Ezra said softly, some minutes later.

"I know." JD sighed, and Ezra felt him take several deep breaths in before he stepped back, regretting the loss of JD's arms around him immediately. "I guess we should go in -- that is, if you're okay with Indian? Shit, I'm sorry, I never thought--"

"Oriental cuisine is entirely acceptable," he said soothingly; his personal misgivings were more related to the restaurant itself, than the style of the cuisine. He couldn't think of one good reason for a restaurant to hide in the back streets with no signs and no advertising. He could think of any number of bad reasons.

"You sure?" JD was watching him closely, and he sighed. There were clearly some significant disadvantages to such a close association if it made his thoughts so apparent to someone as patently inexperienced as JD.

"I'm --" he paused, and then bit the bullet. "John, are you entirely certain that this place is quite above board?" How to ruin a moment, he thought, and watched warily.

"What? Oh, come _on_, you're not on the clock, now. I'm not going to take you anywhere illegal, I swear. Relax. They just like keeping it quiet, you know?" He smiled, no offence taken, and Ezra repressed a sigh. "Sheesh, I oughtta make you take a holiday, you've been spending too much time with cops. It ain't illegal or anything. Trust me! They've got health inspections and stuff up the wazoo."

"That's not quite the comfort it should be," Ezra murmured. "I'm sorry, John, I have spent most of my adult life as a federal agent, and I just tend to be suspicious of --"

"Of anything that isn't government stamped?" John asked pointedly and Ezra's lips thinned.

"You are sure this is just a restaurant?"

"Yes!"

"Very well." Ezra followed John to the door and watched him knock. The thought struck him that he was finding it far easier to love than to trust. And that love without trust was no kind of love at all. But he had to get past a lifetime's training -- surely a few backslidings were permissible? A few seconds passed, and then the door swung open, and Ezra stared in surprise.

The contrast could not have been greater between the dirty grey, damp exterior, and this haven of warmth and bright colors. The walls were almost completely obscured by swathes of silk draped like curtains, giving the illusion of size to the place. The smell of eastern spices pervaded the place.

"Hey, kid, we haven't seen you for a while." The speaker was walking towards them, a middle aged man of Asian extraction, dressed in a smart, if cheap, suit, with a warm smile on his face.

JD bounced over to him pulling Ezra after him. "Geoff, this is my friend Ez. Er. Ra. Ezra." He stopped, and glowered as both the older men laughed. "Ez, this is Geoff Kumar. He owns the place with Mrs. Kumar."

"Ezra Standish." Ezra rolled his eyes and shook the hand the man offered to him with a pleasant smile.

"JD mutilates everyone's name," Geoff said to Ezra, and Ezra laughed politely.

"Not mutilate," JD argued, "It's a mark of, of, of affection!"

"It's a mark of your short term memory failing, with all those computer games you keep playing," Geoff teased him, and laughed at his scowl.

"Anyway, I told Ez you had the best Indian food in Denver, and he doesn't believe me, so --" he spread his hands, "show him what you've got."

Geoff shook his head, "And how are we supposed to live up to a billing like that?"

"Oh," JD smiled sweetly, "by telling Mrs. Geoff that I'm back and I need feeding up again?"

He dodged the cuff aimed at his shoulder, and bounced. "You said we could have the table in the back?"

"Go on then, and make yourself useful! Take some silverware with you!" Geoff called after him.

"You seem to know them well," Ezra observed as JD dragged him over to a table fully set for two, despite Geoff's comment. Ezra stifled his amusement as his partner carefully took his jacket, and saw him into his chair before taking his own seat. The kid was definitely getting points for trying. And maybe the food wouldn't be too bad.

"Mom and I used to come here a when we could afford it, you know, birthdays, graduation, stuff like that. I even bussed tables here for a while too, before Mom got ill, it's how I got to know Geoff and Jenny -- they own it." John smiled as he looked around, soaking up the place. "I loved this place. It was just so, I don't know, so exotic!"

Ezra suppressed his first reaction, which was to roll his eyes, and looked around instead, as though admiring the décor. "It's certainly unexpected after coming in from that street," he said carefully.

John grinned. "Isn't it great?"

Ezra nodded, but was saved from having to answer in any detail by Geoff, who appeared with menus in one hand, and a basket of poppadoms in the other.

"I'll bring the dips over in a minute," he said cheerfully, "Jenny says you're lucky she's not making you fetch them, springing surprises like this on us."

John reddened and shifted uncomfortably, "Geoff!"

Geoff grinned at him. "I'm just the messenger, kiddo. She said she'll be out later."

"We'll look forward to it," Ezra said politely, not missing the momentary frown on Geoff's face, and looked down at his menu.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ezra sighed and pushed the plate back.

"Oh, come on," John coaxed, "Just a little bit?"

Ezra looked dubiously at the greenish lump on the proffered fork. "And it does not involve chili in any form?"

"Oh, don't be such a wuss," he said with a grin. "It won't kill you. I promise." His eyebrows waggled, "I have plans for you, later, and they don't involve necrophilia."

"I am shocked," Ezra said solemnly, and licked a little bit, cautiously, then ate the rest of the forkful. "Mmm. Coconut?" It was surprisingly good; as had been his own simple chicken passander, selected for the innocuous sounding ingredients, and eaten right down to the last piece of flaked almond.

"Among other things," JD agreed. "Here." And fed him another bite of the sweet fish dish.

Ezra could feel someone's eyes on them and without looking knew that Geoff was watching them again. It made his back itch.

"You--" He ran a thumb over a drip on JD's lip, and met his tongue as it went to catch it. JD sucked on Ezra's thumb briefly, then let go, his cheekbones reddening even as his spine straightened, and his eyes hardened.

"You okay?" Ezra asked softly.

"I'm fine," he said quietly. The refusal to meet his eyes told a different story. "So, what happened next?"

Ezra slipped back into the story without any discernable hesitation, but his mind was on JD's so-called friends, and the way JD had been staring at something over his shoulder. He didn't need to turn to know that the restaurant's owner was taking an order from the table just behind him, and he was morally certain he knew exactly what kind of look the man was giving JD to make him close down like this. He finished up the story, with his friends roundly soaked, and himself pristine, and JD chuckled under his breath.

"You mean all of them landed in the overflow? Man, I wish I could have seen that."

"I can't imagine how it happened," Ezra deadpanned, just to see the hazel eyes crinkle up, and his face light up. There. That was why, and he smiled back.

"Yeah, can't imagine," JD was still grinning as he stood and rubbed a hand over Ezra's. "Back in a second."

JD walked quickly through the tables, now filling up as the evening crowd started arriving, towards the back. He disappeared through a door, and Ezra looked away, only to find his gaze caught by the owner's as he approached. To the normal eye the man looked disinterested, non-committal. Ezra noted the steady stare, and the taut grip the man had on the bowl of finger wipes that he was carrying, and drew his own conclusions.

"Thank you," he murmured, and helped himself to the offered bowl, carefully wiping his fingers on a hot, lemon-scented cloth. The man stood watching for a second, then sat himself in JD's chair.

"So, how'd you boys meet?"

Ezra raised an eyebrow. What concern was it of his? "At a club," he lied dismissively.

Geoff's frown deepened and his eyes flicked to Ezra's suit, the pricey leather jacket hanging on the coat hook by the table, and then back to his face. Ezra knew what impression he was making. Hell, it was his _job_ to make this impression, in his mid range suit, and with his charming, slick manner. It was just interesting seeing someone squaring off with him like they thought the local cad was trying to have his way with the innocent heiress. He stifled a grin.

"JD doesn't go clubbing."

"Neither do I, normally, and yet, there we were. Clearly destiny took a hand and brought us together," he said blandly.

Geoff's face hardened. "I don't much like wise guys. JD's a good kid, and I wouldn't be the friend I ought if I didn't keep an eye out for an old friend. So don't get me wrong when I say that I _really_ don't like people who take advantage of kids when they're in a bad place."

The man was deadly serious, and Ezra nodded politely. "An estimable ambition."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ezra allowed himself a smile, tried to keep it genuine. The food had been more than tolerable, and these were John's friends. The boy wouldn't thank him for making an enemy of them -- or a fool of him.

"I mean," he said gently, "that I don't much care for people taking advantage of JD either." He smiled faintly. "And I think he is perfectly capable of thinking and speaking for himself."

"Look, are you --" He paused, embarrassed but determined. "He's very young, have you--?"

"I don't see that that's any of your business." He glanced at his watch, hoping the man would take the hint, but Geoff looked over his shoulder at the direction JD had gone in, and seeing no sign of his return, turned back.

"He goes missing for nearly a year, and then turns up with you, looking fine, with money in his pocket, nice clothes on his back, better than he ever had before." Geoff said quick and low. "I know what happened with his mother, word gets around, and what I don't see is how he matches up with a guy like you. I want to know what he's gotten himself into."

Ezra blinked.

"I know your type, friend, and I'll find you and break your neck if you screw the kid over. He's a good man, even if he doesn't know shit about the world, and all the people who are just waiting to eat him up for breakfast."

He's much more likely to screw me, Ezra thought, sudden laughter pulling at him. He kept his face steady, and smiled over the man's shoulder as he caught a glimpse of JD behind a couple just arriving. "I think you are mistaking me for someone else, sir," he said. However annoying the man was, however little it was his business, it was still a little touching that he was attempting to protect JD's honor. Geoff followed Ezra's line of sight for a second, then turned back when he saw only the new arrivals at the door having their coats taken, only to find Ezra leaning far forward.

"I'm glad he has such friends." Ezra put as much honesty into his face and voice as he could muster, but it didn't seem to have a big effect. "I doubt you will believe me, but I do most sincerely have his best interests at heart. And I am his--" he stopped for a second, unwilling to articulate something so private, trying to find a way to say it that didn't sound sappy or give away too much.

"His what?" Geoff snapped when it became clear Ezra wasn't going to finish the sentence.

"His friend, his lover, his live-in house boy, his sex slave, whatever he wants me to be," JD said into Geoff's ear, and Ezra shook his head as Geoff visibly jolted with surprise, then glowered at his young friend. JD hooked a foot around a nearby chair and set it next to Ezra, sitting as close as humanly possible. "You coming the heavy parent, Geoff?" he asked easily. He slung an arm around Ezra, and smiled impishly at his old friend.

"Kid, I was just--"

"I know." JD smiled at him warmly, and then the smile vanished as abruptly as dust in water. "Just _don't_, okay?"

"JD--"

"I've had all the parent I'm ever going to, okay?" he said with finality, and Ezra looked swiftly at him at his tone, and wrapped an arm around his waist, concern about what people might think be damned. JD's hand was gripping his hip so tightly he could feel the bruises forming.

Geoff lifted his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, kid. JD."

JD shrugged, and gracelessly mumbled something that might have been 'okay then', and might not.

"We heard about your, your loss." Geoff visibly changed what he was about to say as he saw the kid flinch.

"Do you want us to leave?" Ezra said softly, his attention fully on his lover, perfectly willing to abandon this place without a second thought for daring to perturb JD's usual equable good humor, and JD turned, looking into his eyes.

"No." A smile shook and stabilized. "No, I'm good."

"Better than," Ezra corrected, and tried not to fall into hazel eyes, not to kiss him, not to tug him to his feet and take him somewhere where there was no more pain. Damn, and you told the _kid_ he had it bad, Standish, he mocked himself, then dismissed the thought.

"Better than," JD agreed, and turned back to Geoff, a fierce look on his face.

It wasn't needed, Geoff was grinning at them. "Forget it. Just get a room before you get arrested for public indecency."

JD blushed. "Thanks," he said despite his embarrassment, and Geoff stood, tousled his hair.

"You come back soon, okay?"

"Okay."

"And Jenny's sending you some dessert--"

"Oh, man, Geoff, I can't--"

"She's already done it. You want to tell her not to make you treacle pie, _you_ tell her."

JD's eyes rounded. "Really? Proper treacle pie?"

"Yup. Just for you," Geoff grinned. "She's even boxed up the leftovers."

"Oh, wow."

Ezra groaned. "I guess we are staying for dessert then," he said, and JD laughed.

"Trust me. You'll love it," he said, he paused a few seconds while Geoff walked back towards the kitchen, and added in a whisper, "And just think of all that lovely, energy-giving sugar..."

"You'll be the death of me," Ezra informed him, but JD didn't seem overly troubled by this and kissed Ezra's ear quickly, and whispered.

"Yeah, but what a way to go."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ezra looked around curiously as JD crossed the computer lab and waved him to a seat.

"I'll only be five or ten minutes," JD said, but his fingers were already flying over the keyboard, and Ezra mentally revised that estimate up to 'at least half an hour' as he saw his lover frown.

There were half a dozen students lingering here, even at nine in the evening. He wandered through the room, taking in everything without seeming to -- a talent learned at his mother's knee, and so automatic as to barely register.

One girl writing to a friend -- an intimate friend, judging by the content of the note. Another flipping back and forth between screens, apparently making tiny adjustments on one, then examining the effects in the other. A lanky, kid with thick blond hair was instant messaging, and red lining his way through an essay, his? Maybe. And JD was scrolling through pages of data, occasionally highlighting something in what appeared to be a random selection of colors.

"You might find it easier if you included a key," he said quietly, and pulled up the next seat to the kid.

JD jumped, then sighed and smiled at him, giving him a quick look. "Yeah. Maybe. I always end up trying to figure out what I was doing when I come back to these the next time."

Ezra chuckled softly. "So, what is all this?"

JD frowned. "I -- I'm trying to make my program fail, I guess, in simplest terms."

"Fail? I thought the point was to make it succeed?"

"Uh, well, yeah. See, I repeat iterations, and then find where the projected results deviate from the actual." JD stared at the screen and marked another line in pink. "Then I get to go back and decide if the iteration failed because of the program, or because of the prediction. And then I fix the bug, or re-evaluate the original assumptions, and try again."

"Sounds almost as tedious as my own job."

"Oh, no, no way," JD said quickly. "You guys are out here doing the real thing, you know? Fixing the world, shooting the bad guys, saving the day--" the kid sounded a little distracted as he painted another line green, hesitated, and then changed it to yellow. "No way is it anything like this." He gestured at the screen and Ezra smirked a little. He had no idea.

"My job mostly entails hours and hours of paperwork, not unlike that." Ezra nodded at the screen.

"Yeah?" Clearly JD didn't believe him, and Ezra frankly doubted that he could change his rose tinted view of law enforcement without telling him the sort of sordid tale that he had no intention of ever sharing. His stomach twisted as he abruptly remembered this afternoon's session, and the decision to put him in deep cover. No. He wasn't going to mention that. Not tonight, or even tomorrow. Maybe on Sunday, after they'd had time to enjoy this, get used to it. He'd tell him he had to go then.

His thoughts darkened. He didn't want to go under. Not now.

He realized JD was waiting for his reply, and shook his head. "Take the Lasater case -- three weeks of studying audit paperwork, and comparing it with alcohol revenue figures for the past four years to make them tally -- and when they didn't, to discover what exactly was failing to match up." He eyed JD's pink, yellow and green highlighted sections, "I am only too familiar with those damn colors."

JD grinned. "Like war?"

"What?"

"Ninety percent boredom, ten percent utter terror."

"I find the ATF provides a lot less terror than advertised," he said, deadpan.

JD sucked a breath in through his teeth, and picked out another two lines in red and blue for variation, as far as Ezra could tell. "Failing to live up to their advertising?"

"Shocking, ain't it," he smiled, lying for all he was worth. The kid was going to be assured of his safety; he wasn't to worry over Ezra. And if that meant blurring the realities, then that was just fine.

"I don't believe you," JD said, and Ezra's heart about stopped until he spotted the grin, "I reckon you're keeping all the fun to yourself, just being selfish." He laughed softly, and saved the document, then emailed it to himself and someone with a Greek sounding name.

"Who's that?"

"Lucy, she's into topographies. We're collaborating some on making the bots learn maps on a heuristic basis. See, some of her design programs have some pretty interesting implications for some of the assumptions I made in my algorithms and I'm losing you completely."

"No, not at all." He paused a beat. "What's a topography?"

JD snickered. "If you're real lucky I'll demonstrate some practical topographical applications once I get you home."

Ezra grinned back. "Oh good. Have you known Lucy long?"

"Nah. Professor Rosomon introduced us a couple of weeks ago. There, done." He smiled and stood, bending over to shut down the computer. Ezra's eyes drifted inevitably towards the smooth line of his ass under the tightly stretched chinos, and he vaguely wondered if JD actually owned one solitary pair of pants that didn't cling.

"She's a nice kid," he added, and Ezra blinked. "Lucy. Hello? Earth to planet Ezra?" JD slid an arm through his and started pulling him out of the lab, "Come on, they'll throw me out for conduct unbecoming if we don't get you out of here."

"I didn't know grad students could be thrown out for bad behavior," Ezra teased. "I thought it was written into their contracts that they _had_ to behave badly. Drinking, wenching -- boying in your case, of course -- you know, all the usual vices."

"That's undergrads," JD said definitely, "Once you're a grad student you are expected to be a paragon of uh, good behavior." He nodded.

"Rectitude." Ezra said solemnly. "Sobriety. Decorum."

"That too."

They walked in silence for a few seconds until JD snorted, and they both cracked up.

"And what do you mean, 'get _me_ out of here'?" Ezra protested, and JD slanted a wise look at him.

"I wasn't the one staring at my ass back there."

"I sincerely hope not," Ezra said placidly. "You'd get a terrible crick in your neck."

JD laughed; and Ezra slung an arm over his shoulders and hugged him close, smiling, but said nothing.

"Let me ditch some stuff and we can go home," JD said a moment later, as they approached a bank of lockers.

"Sure." Ezra propped himself against the wall, and watched with some amusement as JD cautiously opened one of the lockers, slamming a hand inside before anything could escape, and edging a knee up to trap anything that got away from him, while his free hand rummaged then pulled out a book. "Nope." The book was dropped on the floor without any hesitation, and he rummaged again. In short order there were any number of books, files, cd-roms, candy wrappers and even a shirt and a pair of deeply disreputable jeans.

"I thought I killed those," Ezra said, recognizing the jeans.

JD glanced down, and grinned widely. "Nearly. I was thinking of getting them framed."

Ezra felt a blush burn at his cheeks, to his absolute horror. "You're kidding!"

"Nope," JD smiled into space, then looked at him, turning awkwardly as he tried to keep the contents of his locker from spilling out, and keep his balance. "I figure those are the best pair of jeans I ever owned."

"They're falling apart! They're indecent!"

JD nodded happily. "Yeah. And you nearly demolished them completely getting them off me last night..." He looked down at them. "If I hadn't worn them, you wouldn't have made me go to that damn store, and--" His heart was in his eyes, and Ezra's throat closed up. He pushed away from the wall with his shoulders and crouched to pick up the jeans, then stood to shake them out, and folded them neatly.

"On second thoughts, I believe you may have the right idea regarding the disposition of these." He stared at them for a long moment. "Shall we go home now?"

"In a second, I promise, oh _shit_." JD's momentary inattention had the inevitable result and the resulting mess scattered far and wide.

"How have you managed to achieve this level of disarray in just two weeks?" Ezra asked, not really bothering to conceal his amusement as he helped pick up. He held out a stack of folders and papers to JD, who was carefully packing the locker into some sort of order. "Clearly a hitherto unsuspected talent on your part."

"Professor Sanders."

"Excuse me?"

"Sanders. Head of department -- I think you've got the last part of my hippocampus project--" JD reached over and extracted half a dozen pages, leaving the rest of the pile in Ezra's hands dangling precariously, and carried on. "He wanted me to show some guy around, and I had to just shove everything in and I never really got a chance to fix it." He looked around. "Okay, what do the cds say?"

"As opposed to part of your hippocampus, I suppose, for which I can only be grateful." He cautiously twisted the stack of cds until he could read the sleeves. "Maze one, maze two, blank, three, four, seven, something with the enigmatic designation POTC, maze twelve, another mystery object, Spiderman, maze five and eleven, Matrix Revolutions, oh my, the Sims 'Hot date', Sims 'hacks', how fascinating--"

"Give me that!" JD reached out for his cds.

Ezra stepped back, tutting, "Some of this looks like, good Lord, I fear that some of these items might be _illegal_, John, I sincerely hope you have not been indulging in piracy." He shook his head sadly. "I would be so deeply disappointed."

"Ez, one more word, and you're gonna be more than disappointed. You're gonna be sleeping on your own." But JD's lips were twitching, and Ezra had no fear that he would carry through.

"So, yes, Mr. Sanders. Please, do go on."

"Doctor Sanders. Well, Professor, or Dean, I guess, depending. Anyway, this guy wanted to look around the department, and then I was meeting you, and that was a couple of days ago, and like I said, I never really got a chance to fix it all." He looked inside the almost tidy locker. "Hey, thanks. You got anything else?"

"I believe there are only these." He passed JD the stack of papers, and JD sifted rapidly through them.

"Hey, I knew I had this somewhere!" He plucked something from the pile, and stuffed it into a pocket. "Cool. I was looking for them."

"I dread to think." Ezra smiled. "Are you ready?"

"I guess." JD shouldered the door shut and locked it. "Done."

"So, is this a normal part of your tasks, or didn't you move fast enough when Professor Sanders was looking for a tour guide?" Ezra grinned, "And if I ask nicely, do I get the tour too?"

"Maybe," JD flirted back, "if you make it worth my while." He laughed. "Usually it's whoever doesn't get out of the way in time, but you know, it's funny, the professor said he'd asked about me before we met. That's why he gave me the job, I guess."

"'He'? Anyone important?" he asked idly, and threaded his fingers through JD's as they started down the hall to the exit. "Decent contacts are always worth cultivating."

JD shrugged, "Dunno. I'd never heard of him. Terrence. Tarrant. Something like that." He glanced up, and added, with a grin, "His first name was Jacob; I remember that because he called me JD so I called him Jake, and what's wrong?"

Ezra had stopped dead in his tracks. He felt sick. "Torrence? JC Torrence?"

JD frowned, "Yeah, maybe. It was something like that. Shit, is he one of your, you know," he glanced up and down the corridor and then whispered, "cases?"

"Not exactly." His mind was trying to work, and for a panic-stricken moment all he could think was, Torrence knows. Oh god, he was right here, with you, and I didn't know.

"Oh, okay, just the way you said it--" JD shrugged. "You know," JD's frown deepened, "Are you sure he isn't? Because I just remembered. He said to remember him to you, and to," he drew air quotes, "'your lovely mother'."

His mask held, and it dawned on him that the reason JD had seen through before was because he had allowed him to. Not tonight. He'd explain later, he just wanted to have tonight to themselves, nothing outside. "I believe my mother had some sort of association with him some time ago. Watch out for him," he said easily, "Torrence has a reputation as a ruthless businessman -- nobody seems to know where all his money came from, and anyone who goes looking tends to, ah, regret the endeavor." If they are alive to regret it.

"He has them killed?!" JD seemed to latch onto the most sensational interpretation, and Ezra wished he could just contradict him, but...

"Not anything so crude, darlin'. Just be careful of him -- if he contacts you, anything strange?"

"Sure, but I don't think he was interested in me." The kid looked doubtful for a second, and Ezra wanted to ask him what that doubt was, but pushed the question away, thinking to himself, again, not tonight, not tonight, I'll tell you about Maude tomorrow, I promise.

"Good." He forced a smile. "Shall we?" He held out a hand again, and JD took it without hesitation, and they walked out hand in hand, smiling at each other happily.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You want to go back to get your car?" JD asked as Ezra took his helmet back, and sighed. He'd liked the feel of Ezra sitting behind him on the short journey to the restaurant, and the somewhat longer one between the restaurant and the campus, their hips snug against each other, warm and arousing.

He held his breath as Ezra frowned for a moment, clearly turning over options.

"I'll bring you in tomorrow, if you want?" he offered hopefully.

"If I leave my car overnight in the ATF building we will have no option," Ezra pointed out, and JD nodded, waiting for Ezra to decide. The man looked consideringly at JD. "I suspect I may come to regret this decision, but -- why not?" He pulled the helmet on, and JD did the same, grinning, handing him the backpack.

"Take that, okay? Safer that way."

Ezra pursed his lips, then carefully settled the backpack in place.

"You sure? It's going to be kinda cold this time of night," he said, suddenly uncertain. Ezra and a motorcycle ride of nearly an hour's duration, in the dark, suddenly seemed if not impossible, improbable.

Ezra leaned in close, "Thank you for your solicitude, but I believe I shall be quite warm enough."

"Yeah?" JD swung his leg over and started the motor, pulling on his gloves. Ezra settled in tight behind him, scooting himself in until he was plastered along JD's back, his crotch firm against his ass, his thighs brushing the underside of JD's.

"Oh yes, indeed," Ezra said, and slid his arms around JD's waist, tucked his hands inside JD's waistband, and humped forwards a little, emphasizing the growing swell of his groin.

JD moaned under his breath, and wondered how the hell he was going to get them home without killing them both.

As it happened, the ride was relatively straightforward. It seemed that despite his flirtatious behavior at the start of the journey, Ezra wanted to survive the journey as much as JD did.

It took a mere twenty minutes to get out of the city and onto the open road. With a happy sigh JD opened her up, and wrapped a hand over Ezra's where they had tightened on his belly before putting it back onto the handlebars. At fifty-five the motorcycle purred happily, weaving around the scattered traffic as it appeared and disappeared into the darkness.

Soon they came to the turnoff for Ezra's place, and wound their way slowly up the winding switchbacks, the engine the only sound for miles, beyond his own breathing. He shrugged his shoulders into Ezra, whose body was a warm weight against his back, and smiled at the slow undulation from hip to chest that came back. It was just about perfect, the moon casting light and shadows that they seemed to float through, the wind cold on his exposed wrists and throat, buffeting his denim clad legs. He wondered how Ezra was doing, the leather jacket was lined, and would keep his upper half warm, but those thin suit trousers would be about as much use as cobweb. Ezra's hands were warm on his belly, tucked away from the cold under his jacket and shirt, not moving, but delicious for all that. He slowed even more to spin out the pleasure of the journey, and the wind became a breeze, but he had to speed up again as the engine started to complain at the weight and the incline.

They were home ten minutes later, Ezra groaning slightly as he got off the machine. He swung one leg over, then sat sideways on. "I may never walk again," he announced.

JD pulled his own helmet off, then undid the strap on Ezra's and helped him off with it. He put both helmets down and cupped Ezra's face. "Love you." He leaned down and kissed him. He pulled him upright without breaking the kiss, and deepened it.

"Inside," Ezra gasped after long minutes. "I am _not_ doing this out here. It's too damn cold."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

JD ran upstairs and washed, brushed his teeth swiftly, stripped out of his road-dirty pants, and dragged on a different pair, chinos, dark green, and a cream long sleeved t-shirt. He shook his head at himself: the clothes were going to come off again in minutes with any luck, but he was dithering over the stupid outfit worse than he'd worried about what to wear to the auction.

He paused and grinned. Well, hell, the auction, he'd just been naked. It would save time...

He stripped, and stopped at the door, his nerve temporarily deserting him. "I can do this," he said firmly, then turned the handle and padded quietly down the stairs.

"Do you want a dri--" Ezra turned and his jaw hung open for a second before he snapped it shut. A small smile pulled at the side of his mouth and he said, "Well, I'm guessing we can skip the drinks?"

JD felt his ears burning, but Ezra was smiling, and he walked right up to him, and took the snifter of brandy out of his hand, and started unknotting his tie, crowding Ezra towards the sofa. Ezra's hands smoothed over his hair, then cupped his face.

"You deprived me of the fun of unwrapping you," he complained, still smiling, and JD shook his head.

"I get to undress you."

"Well, that could be fun too," Ezra conceded, and one hand dropped to JD's groin, where his cock hung, half hard with anticipation.

"Mmm," JD agreed, and threw the tie off to the left somewhere. Ezra started laughing, and JD looked up.

"What?"

"I see I am going to spend my mornings retrieving the clothing you fling about so freely the night before."

"I can stop," JD said wickedly, his hands hovering over Ezra's shirt buttons.

"No, no, I imagine I will come to enjoy the new additions to my morning routine."

JD grinned, and leaned in. He licked delicately at the hollow of Ezra's throat, feeling the pulse there beating steadily, quickening under his touch. He plucked the buttons open one by one, and kissed upwards as his fingers drifted downwards, until he was pressing little dabs of kisses over Ezra's lips.

"Stop teasing me, brat," Ezra said abruptly, and drove his tongue into JD's mouth, a hand tangling in his hair.

Ezra tasted of spices, and JD hummed with pleasure as his mouth was plundered ruthlessly. Ezra's touch was dizzying, and he was barely aware of anything but the hands, lips; the warm body against his own. Ezra bit at his lobe, and he moaned as his tongue delicately licked him, following the curves and whorls of his ear. Ezra's chest was bare against him, he wondered how that had happened, even opened his eyes to see the shirt hanging half off a chair, but the room was too bright, and Ezra's touch too insistent, and he closed his eyes again.

"Yes," Ezra murmured, "yes, let me--"

JD shuddered. Ezra's hands ran over him possessively, stroking and rubbing, turning him on so bad. He moved his whole body against Ezra convulsively, uncoordinated and desperate for more contact, more of that warm skin and those delicious, incendiary touches. Ezra was still talking, murmuring words that between the muffling of Ezra's mouth against his skin, and JD's own blissed out fog barely made sense, but still settled warmly into his heart, whispering in tone of love and need, and eager desire.

Then Ezra was completely bare against him and JD moaned as he was forced, step by step, to move. He pulled back a little, and Ezra smiled at him, breathing hard.

"Bed, brat."

"Couch?" he counter-offered, and Ezra looked like he was considering it for a moment, and then shook his head, dipping another kiss onto JD's lips.

"Bed, baby, I want to take my time."

Heat rippled through him and he stared, astounded at his lover. He wasn't even entirely sure what it was that had shaken him so much. Perhaps it was the tenderness in Ezra's voice, or the implicit love, and concern, and promise of hours and hours of intimacy ...

Yeah, that would do it.

"Okay," he said, and slipped his hand into Ezra's own.

The linen on the bed was cool and crisp, and in sharp contrast to the heat of his skin as he sat on the edge of the bed. Goosebumps raced over him, but Ezra was kissing him again, easing him down onto his side, lying beside him, driving all thoughts of anything but this moment out of his head. The world seemed to split into moments -- Ezra by his side, one hand stroking his flank as they kissed, the other between them, fumbling at his cock. Being rolled onto his back passed him by, but Ezra's weight on his chest, Ezra's thigh splitting his legs shone.

"Please?" he said into Ezra's throat, kissing and licking. The hollow at the base of Ezra's neck was irresistible, and he dipped his tongue into it, mapped the lines of bones and flesh and tendons out. Tasted the warm salt of Ezra's sweat, and groaned, buried his face into that place and suckled, hard. Slick fingers breached him briefly, and he arched up, offering himself, widening the splay of his legs, and then when that wasn't enough, lifting them until he could wrap them high around Ezra's body.

"Love you," Ezra said softly, clearly, and that was another moment that snapped into focus, the words so raw for all their tenderness that he dragged his eyes open again and so was watching Ezra's face as he pushed into him; and was riveted by the intensity on the man's face. Ezra's pupils were so dilated that they seemed all black, and those eyes were fixed on him with something that looked like wonder.

"You too, Ez," he whispered, "I love you too," and he arched his back, tightened his thighs on Ezra's waist and drove himself up until he was completed, the emptiness that only came when he was apart from him gone.

Don't go, he wanted to whisper, stay forever, but he smiled instead as Ezra started moving inside him, the long hard shaft pulling out with sweet ease, and then driving back up into him until he could feel the strain in his thigh muscles as Ezra's hips pushed them apart, and the rough brush of hair on his anus. And out again, until the stretch wasn't painful, and every stroke make him shake, the movement, the friction, the fullness of it, the sweet frictive pressure deep inside, getting him exactly where he most wanted to be touched, and the tight pressure on his aching shaft that somehow was slicked and gripped too, but by knowing, strong fingers.

This was going to be forever, he thought hazily, and then there were no more thoughts at all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Hey, kid," Buck smiled at the young man as he pulled his helmet off. He looked up and smiled politely back.

"Lemme just lock this up," he said, tucking his helmet under one arm, and neatly dodging any attempt to shake hands. Buck frowned as he ducked out of sight to run a chain through the wheels. Fine. If the kid was going to be like that, then he was going to just have to work a little harder.

The kid straightened up, and Buck pushed himself to his feet from his perch on the hood of his truck.

"Shall we?" He swept an arm out inviting the kid ahead of him, and followed him into the bar. He blinked a little, his eyes adjusting to the darker environment, and found Inez smiling at the kid.

"Hi JD," she said cheerfully, and reached for a menu. "Is Mr. Standish coming?"

"Not this time," JD said easily enough, but Buck noted, and smirked at, the red tinge to the kid's ears. _Well, well, well._

"Inez, you are more beautiful than ever."

Inez rolled her eyes. "And you are just as stupid, Senor Wilmington," she said cheerfully. She looked from him to JD, "Tell me you are not corrupting this young one now?"

"No, ma'am," JD said, "He's buying me lunch." Buck surprised a wicked grin on the boy's face, and shook his head.

"Hey! When did I ever say that?"

"Well, I figure, when you _invited_ me to lunch."

Buck reached over and scrubbed at the flattened hair. "Like the new look, kid, but not that much." JD twisted away from his touch sharply.

"Leave the hair alone, man," he said, and Buck looked at him, surprised at the vehemence in his voice.

"Sure, sure, no harm, no foul."

He glanced at the bar where Inez was studiously polishing a glass. "Can I have a beer, sweetheart?"

"I am not your sweetheart, senor, and that'll be five dollars eighty."

Buck felt his eyes widen, but reached for his wallet. "What kind of beer you serving here? Got gold dust in it?"

"You don't like my beer, you don't have to drink it!" she said briskly and pushed a bottle of some weird import microbrew.

"What the hell is a Bishop's Finger?"

JD snorted. When Buck looked at him though he was smiling sweetly at Inez. "Do you have any milk?"

"Milk?" Buck sputtered. "I bring you to a fine bar and you want _milk_?"

Inez however simply nodded. "Of course, JD. I can do raspberry, chocolate, banana or just ordinary, and hot or cold."

JD grinned, "Raspberry, cold. Thank you!"

"How old are you anyway?" Buck muttered, and then remembered the reason that he'd brought the kid here in the first place. "Not that you have to be young to drink milk. No. Definitely not. You drink whatever you want." He pulled his credit card from his wallet and put it on the bar. "Inez, run us a tab, wouldya, darlin'?"

Inez reached over for the card and examined it dubiously, but accepted it without a word. "If you want to take a seat, I'll bring your shake over, chiquito."

Buck looked at his own bottle of beer, which had been unceremoniously thumped on the bar before him. "How come he gets table service?"

"Because _he_ behaves like a gentleman." She slapped a menu on the bar, stinging his fingers. "Now, go, sit, and stop bothering me."

"Aw, Inez..."

"Now!"

Routed, Buck retreated. The kid had picked a table by a window, and had settled into the seat that faced the rest of the room. Buck scowled and took the one with his back to the door. He hated sitting here, especially when he was with someone he couldn't trust to back him up. It made the middle of his back itch as though it was exposed to sniper fire. Worse yet the kid had his face buried in a menu, and was clearly laughing under his breath. Buck smiled reluctantly.

"You think that's pretty funny, huh?"

"You ain't all that, Buck," the kid said cheerfully, and Buck laughed.

"You just figuring that out, boy?" He swiped the menu. "Let me see that."

"Get your own!" JD protested and tugged it back. They struggled over it for a few seconds until Inez approached, JD's milkshake on a tray, her eyebrows high.

"You boys ready to order?"

"Sure," JD said, throwing a smirk at Wilmington. Buck felt his heart sink. "I'd like the sixteen ounce fillet, and a side of fries with cheese. And can I have onion rings with it? And biscuits and gravy? And some salad?"

"Certainly, honey, what kind?"

JD grinned at her, "Oh, you know, whatever's expensive."

She grinned back. "Ah. I shall do my best."

She turned away and Buck called, "Hey, hey, now, wait up a minute! What about my meal?"

"He'll have the same, Inez," JD called, and Inez grinned wickedly.

"That's exactly what I thought, senor!"

"No, now what a minute! Inez! Inez?" he called plaintively, then followed her to the bar. "Don't be like that, honey? All I wanted was a cheeseburger, you do them so well. I ain't had one of your cheeseburgers in a dog's age."

"And whose fault is that?"

Buck shrugged. "You don't like me coming here, so--"

"I like your money just fine. It's your attitude that stinks. You'll eat what I serve you and be grateful."

"Aw, don't be mad," he said. Inez turned away with a snort of disdain. He sighed, then headed back for the table.

"I'm wearing her down, kid," he said cheerfully.

JD shook his head. "Ain't that kinda harassment?"

"Nope." He shook his head, and was going to leave it there when he caught the disapproving frown being bent on him. "Kid, what you gotta understand, is I've known Inez since she arrived here, pretty much six years ago now. She's like a sister."

"You hit on your sister? You're more perverted than I thought." Inez said unexpectedly, and put a salad and some bread rolls in the middle of the table. "The rest will be along."

Buck grinned sheepishly. "It's a game. She knows it. I know it."

JD looked from him to the bar owner and back. He clearly wasn't entirely convinced.

"Ask any of the guys," Buck added, and then thought about it. "On second thoughts, scratch that."

JD grinned. "I'll ask Ezra," he said briefly, and broke a roll and buttered it.

Buck frowned. The kid was supposed to be opening up to him about now. Okay, so he usually charmed the ladies, but surely a bitty kid like this wasn't going to be that difficult to get to talk? Not when he was a talker anyway.

"How's things at school?" Was he really reduced to talking to the boy like some maiden aunt? He eyed the kid morosely. Next he'd be saying how much he'd grown since he'd seen him last. Although... A slow grin spread over his face, bet the kid was touchy about his height...

"Fine." JD popped another piece of bread in his mouth.

How long was this kid going to hold a grudge anyway?

"You working on anything interesting? Special class project or something?"

JD shrugged. "Not really."

"Yesterday was pretty interesting," Buck tried.

"Yeah?"

"Ezra made a good call on that bust. I guess he told you about it."

JD shrugged. "Ezra doesn't talk about work much. Says he endures entirely too much of it during the day to spend his free time ruminating over it." The kid didn't do a bad southern accent -- if you thought that Scarlet O'Hara was a good role model.

Buck grinned, "Sounds like Ezra."

"So..." JD fiddled with his glass, "What happened on the bust?" He looked up and Buck smiled and leaned back into his chair.

"Well, kid. I was running the operation, seeing as Chris had to go pacify the bean counters. Now I don't know if Ez's told you how we run stuff--"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"--so old Ez is going back in, but this time it's gonna have to be in deep." Buck stopped abruptly and closed his mouth.

JD froze. "What does that mean?" But he already had a damn good idea. Deep cover -- go into the bad guys camp, fake them out, save the day. Ah, _shit_. And he remembered how tender Ezra had been last night, how he'd poured everything into making JD feel loved and wanted. Ezra, you idiot, he thought, anger churning with pity.

"Uh--" Buck hedged, looking around, "You know, I ought to get back to the office, Chris -- Mr. Larabee -- is gonna pitch a fit if I turn up late again."

"You said he was in a meeting all day."

Buck looked trapped, and JD felt his initial surprise slowly solidify into anxiety. What was so bad about this assignment? "I might have exaggerated a little."

"Exaggerated?"

"Lied," he said baldly, and JD shook his head.

"No. Buck, please, tell me what you meant. Go in deeper?"

"Inez!" Buck waved at her, "Check?"

She nodded and turned to the cash register.

"Buck..."

Buck stared at his hands for a moment then sighed. JD almost felt sorry for him, but he was the one who had opened his big mouth. He could damn well explain what he meant. "It's like this, kid. Lasater's outfit is bigger than we thought. That take down -- Ez made the right call on it, aborted, got us right in position to go in, take them apart from the inside out. And Ez, he's already in with Lasater, and he's the best undercover man I've ever seen, and I've seen a few."

"Okay. So--"

"So. He's going to have to build up the identity he's already got; get in close to Lasater and his operation to figure out how it works. That means deep cover." He hesitated, and finished it. "And that means nothing and no one to stick holes in his identity."

JD felt sick. "No me."

Buck wouldn't meet his eyes. "Yeah, probably, kid." He winced as JD brusquely reached for his drink and drained the milk wishing it was whisky and slammed the glass back down. "I'm sorry."

"No. It's okay. I needed to know." He tried to relax his tensed shoulders. "When, when does he go in?"

Buck shook his head. "I don't know. They're going to have to set up a place for him to live; an ID that will stand up to a reasonably thorough scrutiny--"

"He should have told me!" he blurted.

Buck looked at him with something like pity in his eyes. "Yeah. Maybe."

"Maybe?!"

"He only knew yesterday. What did you guys do last night?"

JD blushed, and then ducked his head as Buck started laughing. Inez appeared with the check and Buck glanced at it and signed it off, taking back his card in exchange. "Thanks, hon," he said absently, and Inez smiled genuinely at him.

"A pleasure."

"So when do you think he had a chance?" Buck said.

JD looked down. "He should have--"

"But you'd have had a shitty evening if he had, right?" Buck shook his head. "Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut. Hell, I _should_ have kept my mouth shut. I'm betting he was going to tell you this weekend, or maybe next week. Wait 'til he had something definite to say."

"Doesn't he trust me?"

Buck looked straightly at him. "Ez don't trust much of anyone."

"But--"

Buck's eyes were kind, but not a hint of it was in his voice. "How's he supposed to trust someone he's known for three months?"

JD bit his lip. Buck didn't know how much less time than that it really was. Maybe Buck had a point -- but it didn't stop it hurting. He shouldn't have had to find out from someone else.

"Okay," he conceded reluctantly. Dark blue eyes met his and he reddened. "Okay," he repeated, with more emphasis. "I just thought--"

"Hell, he don't trust _us_ and we've known him more'n a year longer than you." Buck grinned. "Just because you're just about crazy about him doesn't mean his brain's switched off. He's always gonna analyze, double check. You know, he's always trotting out this phrase, now what was it. Yeah. 'As a gambler I leave nothing to chance'." He pulled off a near perfect imitation of Ezra's voice and JD grinned momentarily.

"Yeah, but--"

Buck stood and JD followed suit. "Kid, all I can tell you is you need to figure out how to get over this. And fast. Ezra thinks you don't like it, one of two things is gonna happen. He'll drop you, and get himself killed, or he'll drop the case, and get himself fired."

"Killed?" JD's voice cracked and he swallowed, trying to make his dry mouth work. "What do you mean?"

Buck looked at him compassionately. "Son, he's in the ATF. You've gotta know that he carries. We all do. That's not just for the fun of it, JD. Agents die every year. Not many, but some. And he's going in where people have everything to lose if he makes mistakes." He held JD's eyes steadily, and JD shivered. "Don't make it so he don't care if he makes a mistake."

Buck had to be exaggerating. God, please, he _had_ to be. The way Ezra had talked about it, working for the ATF was all paper pushing and mind games. Except... He thought of the holster that Ezra quietly shrugged on every morning under his jacket, and slipped off as soon as he got home. He didn't even know where the gun was kept when Ezra wasn't wearing it, hadn't noticed him taking it off in the evenings, or fetching it in the mornings. There had to be some kind of gun safe around the house, but he'd never noticed it, much less spotted Ezra using it.

He felt sick. Sick, and stupid, and so naive.

"That gun ain't for decoration, you know," Buck said quietly, as though he was reading his mind. "He's a damn good shot at short range, and not bad at middle and long range. Ain't a marksman, but we don't need a marksman. We already got Vin."

JD shook his head, not denying it exactly, more trying to settle the knowledge into his whirling brain. "Are you carrying right now?" he blurted.

Buck nodded, and tugged at the hem of his jacket. For a second the shape of a gun was sharply delineated under the fabric, and he let go, leaving only the faintest bulge above his left breast.

"I never--" he couldn't speak, didn't know what to say. A large hand settled between his shoulders and guided him outside.

"I know." Buck looked at him seriously. "You better figure it out pretty damn fast though, kid. Because crazy as you are about him, he's the same about you. And if this changes --"

"No!" It didn't change anything. But... He slid a quick glance at the bulge where Buck's gun lay concealed.

"If you can't handle this, you better figure it out and leave while you only break his heart a little."

"I ain't going nowhere!" JD snapped before he even thought about it.

Buck slapped him on the back and grinned hugely. "Good man. Trust me, everything else is details, kid. Right?"

JD glowered at him. "I guess," he said reluctantly, wondering exactly how he'd gotten maneuvered into this.

"No guessing involved!" Buck laughed out loud. "You go stew about it, now, but don't forget my advice."

"What advice?" JD said helplessly. Buck unlocked his truck and hopped up into the driver's seat. He slammed the door and grinned out the window at JD.

"All of it!" He started the car and pulled out of the lot, leaving JD completely speechless behind him.

"What advice! He didn't give no advice! All I got was a bunch of stuff about leaving Ez, which I ain't doing, and guns, which I--" He came to a halt.

Mom had been anti-guns. Her brother had died when his best friend shot him accidentally with his father's gun. They had been ten years old and playing with the loaded Luger brought home from Germany as a trophy. She'd been six years old, and had never, ever forgotten.

He knew of her feelings, but at second hand, and he'd never really felt that distaste or fear himself. She'd hated him playing cowboys and injuns as a kid, had refused to let him have a toy gun, even a water pistol, and all his life, he'd respected her wishes, almost automatically. He stared at his hands, remembering.

He'd gone to a firing range once, when he was nineteen, right after he'd gotten back from England. There'd been a big crowd of them, and he'd been reluctant to show how little he knew about guns. He'd grown up in a big pro-gun state, with an anti-guns mother. He'd felt self-conscious, and awkward, and not a little embarrassed when he'd been handed ear protectors and a gun, and a round of bullets, cold and heavy in his hand.

He'd listened carefully, and then carefully followed the instructions. Loaded correctly, first time; lined up, both eyes open, pointing carefully, both hands supporting the weapon as it recoiled, and the instructor murmured, and he listened, and adapted, and shot, and again, and again, until the round was gone, and they were reeling the target in, and there was a ragged group, spiraling inwards. Not dead center. Not even once. But closer than he was comfortable seeing. The instructor had looked at it and nodded, and told him, not bad, a bit of practice and he'd hit dead center every time. And he'd never, ever gone back.

He'd never told her.

It felt like a betrayal.

He wondered if Ezra had ever killed someone. If Buck had. Did it make them feel different? Did they even care?

Did it make Ezra different?

And then he wondered what it felt like to have people around you who would kill you in a heartbeat if they knew who you really were. What it felt like to know your life rested on the knife edge of a lie.

And underneath it all, he desperately wanted to call Ezra, right now, and make him promise never to leave.


	17. Fides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trust begets trust.

JD yawned, and gave up on trying to get back to sleep, and reluctantly attempted to slip out of bed. First though, he had to unwrap Ezra's limpet grip on his waist, and with a silent giggle tucked his pillow into Ezra's embrace. He stood watching as Ezra grunted and hugged the pillow tightly. Faint lines deepened on his forehead, and JD leaned down, running a hand over his hair.

"Shh, go to sleep," he said softly, and the tension eased from Ezra's face even as one eye opened. "Can't do a damn thing I ask you, can you?" JD teased and laughed as Ezra pouted. "Go on, it's six am, go back to sleep."

Ezra's head lifted briefly to look at the clock, and a look of horror crossed his face before he burrowed back down under the covers until only a hint of hair peeked out.

Laughing under his breath, JD headed into the bathroom to get cleaned up. The laughter faded as he looked in the mirror, and he remembered. Ezra was going undercover -- and hadn't told him. He'd waited all evening, and he hadn't said a word. What did that mean? Didn't Ezra trust him?

A shiver ran down his back, and he gritted his teeth. Ezra had said he loved him. It would work out. It had to.

Maybe Ez had a plan. Maybe he was planning to tell him today, or tomorrow, or maybe the details weren't as final as Wilmington had managed to make them sound and Ez just didn't want to worry him until he had something definite to say. Maybe -- He stopped and drew a deep breath. Maybe he should stop panicking until he knew what was going to happen.

He made himself breakfast as quietly as he could, then poured a second mug of coffee and took it upstairs to see if Ezra wanted it. From the indecipherable grunt from beneath the comforter he rather suspected that Ezra wished he hadn't bothered, but he left the cup on the bedside table anyway. He peered outside as he got dressed. The dawn sun was starting to streak a cloudless sky, and it looked like being a beautiful day. He grabbed his keys, his radio and the newly bought bike repair kit, and headed out to work on the Kawasaki, determined not to think at all if humanly possible.

He shivered as the door closed behind him and he walked around the Jag to his machine. It was cold, and he wished he'd thought to bring some gloves outside as well as the sweater that he had pulled on as an afterthought. Still, once he got going he'd probably be warm enough. He took a sip of his coffee, breathing in deep, and savored the warmth of the steam on his face.

He could actually hear the wind in the trees, and the sounds of birds chirping, and he shook his head. It really was amazingly peaceful out here, he thought, then shook his head. At half six in the morning, even middle of downtown would be quiet. He yawned again, and put the mug down out of the way, and settled in to give his bike a thorough look-see.

It didn't take him long to decide that Frank had done as little as possible to her over the ten months that he'd owned her for. The accumulated grime was a clear indicator, and so was the thick sludge that had caked where oil had been allowed to sit on the engine. He sighed, but stripped the bike down anyway to have a good look. He was elbows deep in grease, his sweater lying where he'd thrown it on the hood of the Jag by the time his concentration was so deep he was blindsided by the thought: he could be killed.

His stomach tightened, and his earlier coffee churned unpleasantly. He'd watched last night as Ezra disappeared into the study, coming back with his jacket hanging from his hand, and no sign of the holster or the gun he couldn't stop thinking about.

Ezra had looked quizzically at him, but he'd just shaken his head and smiled, trying to brush it off as nothing. He stopped, staring blindly at nothing. The gun was scary. He'd known, in theory, that Ezra carried. Had known, he supposed, that those five other men who'd cheerfully accepted him the week before must also carry guns.

They were cops. Federal agents. Whatever. Cops carried guns. Because the bad guys carried guns.... He drew a deep breath. He could deal. It was just, just getting used to the idea.

He'd looked up stats yesterday afternoon after lunch with Buck, instead of working on the data from his simulation. Most cops didn't ever pull their guns. ATF agents who were killed in the line of duty were in single figures, most years.

Chances were, Ezra only really ever used his gun at the range. Chances were, he'd never fired a shot intended to hit a living human being. Chances were, he was going into some situation where everyone was armed, and everyone around him would kill him as soon as look as him if they found out that he wasn't one of them.

God. To think he'd actually thought being a fed was 'cool'. He felt sick to his stomach, imagining the phone call, wondering if it would be some anonymous hospital clerk, or if one of the team would phone and say, 'I'm sorry--'

If anyone would call at all.

The roar of an engine interrupted his thoughts, and he turned with real relief.

"Oh wow." He stood and wiped his hands on an oil-stained cloth, staring at the motorcycle that pulled in. The biker pulled off his helmet and grinned at him.

"Hey, kid."

"She's gorgeous," JD said, walking slowly around the '58 Harley. Vin Tanner laughed, apparently untroubled by JD's complete lack of manners.

"She's not so bad. Still got a way to go with her."

"You don't take _her_ out dirt biking?" JD said in sudden horror eyes snapping up to met the laughing blue ones.

"Nah." He patted the black, red and silver bike affectionately. "Figured since we were going up back on the horses I could take her for a spin and leave her here. Thought you might like to meet her." He swung his leg over the bike, then perched on the saddle. He nodded at the partially dismembered Kawasaki, "Doesn't look like you're going anywhere soon on her."

JD shrugged. "I can put her back together in about half an hour," he said, and lifted a gleaming piece up into position, then struggled to hold it in place as he reached for a screwdriver.

Vin watched for a moment then as it slipped bent down to help hold it up as JD edged it back into position.

JD flashed him a quick grin as he snapped the retaining clip into place, then scrabbled for the screwdriver, and poked gingerly through the little heap of screws and clips on the ground for the right ones. "Thanks. Can you--"

"Try that," Tanner picked one out at the same moment as JD found its pair. They grinned at each other. "You got another screwdriver?"

JD nodded. "Toolbox." Tanner made a long arm and dragged the metal box closer to him, then rummaged inside.

"New." Vin's tone held a question, and JD nodded.

"Guy who sold me back the bike didn't want to sell me the kit I'd built. Said if I could afford to unload cash on this old rice rocket, I could afford a new kit." He scowled. "Took me years to get that kit together."

"Bummer," Vin sympathized. "Still, all new kit, sometimes worth it."

JD sighed shortly. "I guess. I just miss some of 'em." He ducked his head and mentally kicked himself. Stupid. Getting sentimental over stuff. Vin was going to think he was some kind of whiny, stupid kid. "Got used to their tricks, you know."

Vin nodded as he positioned a screw and swiftly set it deep into its socket. "Know what you mean. Hate using other people's kit when I'm out racing." He shrugged a little ruefully. "Kinda superstitious I guess but--"

JD smiled at him, "Yeah, I know." Tanner smiled back, and JD relaxed a little. Okay, the guy didn't think he was stupid. Tanner got it too.

"What ya doin'?" Tanner asked before he could query it, and JD let it go.

"Basically, just looking her over, you know? Frank -- he's the guy I sold her to -- anyway, he had her for best part of a year. I wanted to see what he'd done with her."

"And?" Vin ran his eyes over the machine speculatively.

JD rolled his eyes. "She's running okay," he conceded reluctantly, "but look at this." He scraped his screwdriver through the muck. Some of it cracked and crumbled off, and some parted, showing dull grey metal underneath it, but most of it stayed a solid, matt black.

"Huh. Still, it's not a performance killer," Vin pointed out.

"Nah, but, she's _my_ ride, you know?" He looked pointedly at the Harley which, while not exactly cherry, was immaculately clean. Tanner nodded.

"Want a hand?"

"Gonna be dirty."

Vin grinned at him and held up hands that were already smeared with black. "If I minded I'd'a still been in bed."

JD laughed, and glanced back at the house.

"I'm betting nine at the earliest," Vin said, and JD grinned.

"You reckon that early?"

Vin looked slyly at him. "Sure. He ain't got no added inducement to stay in bed this mornin'."

JD reddened and smiled, pleased but still embarrassed.

They worked in silence for a while, until JD was startled by the sound of Vin's stomach rumbling.

"God, I'm sorry, did you eat breakfast -- do you want something? I shoulda asked you sooner, man, I'm such an idiot." He scrambled to his feet and wiped his hands on his jeans.

"S'okay, kid," Vin said easily. "Guess I forgot too."

He stood, and wandered into the garage, and found a rag to wipe his hands on, and rolled his shoulders. "Guess I could eat though," he added with a smile, and followed JD into the kitchen.

"You want toast or cereal, or--" JD turned back from pouring two mugs of black coffee and discovered Tanner rummaging in the cupboard where he'd found the pop tarts that first morning.

"Uh--"

Vin eyed him narrowly, clearly reading his guilty expression with ease. "You stole my _poptarts_?"

JD took a step back.

"Now that's low," Vin shook his head sadly, "I've seen crooks, and villains, and bad guys that would make your teeth bleed. But I ain't never seen a man who'd go so low as to steal a fella's poptarts."

JD bit his lip to hide his grin. "It was the poptarts or eat some French meat paste stuff for breakfast," he said plaintively.

Vin grinned at him. "Why'd you think I keep my own stash up here?"

"Does this help?" JD opened a cupboard and Vin's eyes lit up.

"Okay, you're forgiven," he said as he reverently pulled out the Frosties and Cocopops. "How'd you get Ez to spring for them?"

JD fetched the milk, and turned to the cupboard for bowls, and found Vin had already grabbed two and set them on the table. "Didn't tell him about 'em. Just kinda added them to the shopping list."

Vin's eyes crinkled up with amusement and helped himself to cereal. "I can see this is gonna work out just fine."

They ate in silence for a while, until Vin glanced at him.

"You ride, right? Horses?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm. Ez said you had, just wanted to check. Done much lately?"

JD looked away. "Nah. Haven't really had time." Tanner was looking at him like he knew there was more to it than that, and JD ducked his head, chasing the last of the chocolate colored milk assiduously around the bowl.

"Good enough." Tanner let it drop and JD felt his shoulders relax. When he looked up the man was looking out the window, "Figure we can go up the back trail. If we pack some food we can probably get pretty high into the mountains before noon. There's some nice views up there too."

"Sure. You know 'round here better'n I do," he agreed easily. "Do you think Ez would--"

Vin laughed outright. "I think he'll be happier if he gets to lie in as long as possible."

JD couldn't help grinning. Vin had a point.

"You better write him a note or something, though."

JD scowled. "Geeze, he's not my Mom," he said defensively.

Vin looked at him thoughtfully and said nothing, but said it so clearly that JD felt his blush deepen.

"Okay, okay. I'm just kidding," he muttered, and headed to the study to find some paper and a pen. He wrote a brief note, and folded it over. "Idiot," he muttered to himself. "Calm down. He didn't mean anything by it."

* * *

Vin had watched with half an eye as JD had saddled his horse, and settled the rest of the tack in place. He finished about the same time as Vin did, and then looked around, his eyes going over Vin's tack swiftly. Vin dropped his head a little to hide the amusement in his eyes. Fine, the kid knew how to tack up. Didn't mean he knew how to ride.

JD led his horse out of the stable and Vin followed, leading Zebulon. JD swung up into the saddle, a little stiffly as though out of practice, and Vin nodded. They would take it slow today. He'd bet the kid hadn't ridden in a couple of years at least. He mounted up and told Zebulon to get moving. The big chestnut jittered a little, but Vin moved easily with him until he got used to the idea that no, he wasn't going to get his head today either.

"Y'okay there?" Jellicle was the mildest tempered of Ezra's horses, and she was still acting antsy. He wondered if it was that she hadn't been properly out for a while, or if JD was anxious about the ride and transmitting his nerves to her.

"Yeah." JD's voice was clipped. Vin considered him thoughtfully but let it go. Time enough for questions later.

"Just heading down the pasture until we get to the back road, and then we'll turn up the mountain," he called over his shoulder, and set out. The kid would follow.

By the time he had reached the turn the kid had gotten over whatever bug had bitten him, and was up alongside Zeb.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing at the ground. Vin squinted at the dusty blue-grey bird.

"Scrub Jay," he told the kid, and smiled at him, "Didn't take you for a bird watcher."

"I'm not I just--" the kid caught Vin's second meaning and laughed. Vin grinned back at him.

"You want birds, look up."

"Hey, yeah, Vin, I was outside a few nights ago and there was this big bird, wheeling up over the mountains."

"Gonna need more information than that," Vin shook his head. Big and it flies. Might want to narrow that down some.

JD looked disappointed, but he nodded. "I guess. If I see something though, can I--?"

Vin sighed. It was going to be a damn nature class at this rate. Why did he decide this was a good idea again? "Sure, kid. Just point it out _quietly_. Don't want to scare everything off."

"Okay. Sorry."

The kid was quiet for all of five minutes.

"What about that?" He was pointing upwards, and Vin shook his head.

"Falcon. Peregrine, prairie; could even be a merlin. Sun's in my eyes, so I can't be sure."

"Cool." JD peered up into the sky, then settled back to concentrating on keeping his seat. "Vin?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"Why are you doing this?" Vin reined his horse in and twisted in his saddle to meet JD's forthright gaze.

"Figured if you waited for Ezra to show you some of this--"

"Vin." JD was still looking right at him and Vin shifted uneasily. "Fine, okay. We're looking at the motorcycle route. Except even I can see there's no bike tracks up here."

That would tend to be a problem, Vin admitted privately. "Most folks join further up the trail." Which was sort of true.

JD sighed. "Okay, whatever."

They rode in silence for some time, until the kid broke. "So, does Mr. Larabee live far from here?"

"About forty miles that way," Vin jerked a thumb north-west, and grinned. "About far enough that they don't kill each other at the weekends."

JD grinned back and Vin wondered what exactly Ezra had told the kid about Larabee. For that matter, what he'd told the kid about the team. He hesitated, then gritted his teeth. He wasn't going to get a much better chance than this.

"So, Ez say much about the rest of us?" he asked, straining to sound casual. The kid seemed to buy it, and smiled at Vin.

"He said never get between you and your junk food."

Vin laughed, "Harsh, but fair." He rummaged in a pocket and pulled out a couple of granola bars. "Here."

The kid just about caught his, and thanked him before ripping into the honey and chocolate laced candy.

"What about the rest of us?" he added, chewing.

JD shrugged, chewed a few seconds and swallowed hastily. "I don't remember really," he hedged and Vin laughed silently.

"It was that bad, huh?"

"No! No, It was just -- I just -- ah, fuckit." He caught sight of Vin's smirk and growled under his breath. "Bastard." He threw his empty wrapper at Vin who caught it and shook his head solemnly.

"You really shouldn't litter, JD," he drawled, dragging the name out. JD cracked up laughing, and then asked the question Vin had been waiting for.

"So, what'd he tell you guys about me?"

Vin hesitated. He didn't have to tell Larabee what he found out, if anything. He looked at the kid, and the smile fell from JD's face.

"What did he tell you?" he repeated in a whisper.

"Not much." Vin looked away, then pulled his horse up, and reached across to hold onto JD's bridle. "Kid -- I wouldn't ask this except I'm worried 'bout ya. About you an' Ez both."

"What? Why?"

JD looked frightened, and Vin winced internally. This didn't look good.

"I been doing some looking, you see. A -- I was -- JD, look, I'll give it you straight, okay? I've found some stuff that worried me. See, Ezra likes the finer things in life, but he ain't that rich. And you, you've never had a job that paid more than minimum wage. And then, all of a sudden, you move in with Ez, and all your debts are cleared." He watched carefully. "JD, that's a lot of money to come by honestly."

JD jerked but didn't try to escape, he just seemed to fold in on himself. Vin bit back a sigh. Larabee was going to kill him. So much for discreet.

"You've been looking," he said in a shaken voice. "Oh god."

"JD. Kid, I can't help you unless you help me a little here, okay?" he said recklessly. The thought crossed his mind that maybe that was how they got to the kid -- a little mutual aid. But he didn't falter for a moment as he waited. "Where'd the money come from?"

"I can't tell you," he said somewhere between misery and defiance.

"Can't, or won't?"

JD looked down.

"Did someone give it to you to move in with Ez?"

"N-no." But the kid's whole demeanor yelled yes.

"Come on, just tell me the truth." Vin nudged his horse closer. "I'm Ezra's friend. I'm not out to harm him."

"But you think I am?"

"No." Vin stopped himself too late. "No," he repeated more slowly. It was true, he realized, JD didn't seem to have any motive for being with Ezra beyond having fallen for the guy in a big way. And... there was just something to the way the kid said Ezra's name; to the way he'd stood up to Buck that first poker game; to the way he was holding his jaw and the steady brown eyes that watched him as warily as any wild animal.

"I'm worried about where that money came from, and how it's going to look if it comes out," he said simply.

JD bit his lip. "Can I trust you?"

Vin half smiled at him. "No one c'n decide that but you." And God help us all if we both choose wrong.

JD nodded, and after about half a minute's silence, Vin let go of JD's reins and walked his horse on, hoping.

A few minutes later he simply nodded to JD as the kid brought his horse up alongside without looking at him.

They paced each other for a few minutes before JD cleared his throat and asked, "Vin, if I tell you something, are you gonna have to tell Mr. Larabee? And all the others? You know, make it official?"

Vin sighed. "I ain't going to lie to you, I might have ta tell Chris." I'm probably gonna tell Chris everything you say, but you're scared enough right now, without me telling you that. "But tell me, and I'll do my best to help ya." Shit. What'd I go and say that for? If I end up arresting him for extortion or bribing a federal officer...

"I can't make any promises, okay? If you've done something illegal or--"

"No! No. I don't think it's illegal, exactly." JD didn't look any too sure of it though as he fiddled with his reins, twisting the leather to and fro in his hands, and Vin's heart sank further. Christ. Someone really had paid for JD to take up with Ez, and he was going to end up breaking both their hearts by arresting the kid, and Chris would have to suspend Ez. What a fucking mess.

Kid wasn't gonna last a minute in jail.

"Ezra's Mom--"

Vin's head shot up. "Maude?"

"Is that her name?" JD glanced at Vin briefly, then looked down again. "She, ah, she helped me out with my bills. And I met Ezra through her." He swallowed, and said lowly, "I don't know how much you know about my Mom?"

"A little."

"It took her seventeen months, from the day they diagnosed cancer, to the day she finally died, did you know that? It cost quarter of a million dollars just to give her a year more than they said she had." He looked up, face fierce, "And I'd sign every damn form again, spend every last red cent of it. Just for that year." He looked away, but not before Vin saw tears glimmering at the corners of his eyes. When the kid looked back the tears were gone.

"Why'd she give you the money? Maude?"

JD shook his head. "Because she could. I don't know why. Ez said he-- that she had said she had an inconvenient five -- you know," he seemed unwilling to say the amount out loud, and Vin nodded, encouraging him to go on. "Anyway, he said she spent it on me, because she thought it would make him happy." He looked up at that, and straight into Vin's eyes. "He is happy. I want him to be happy. He deserves it, more'n anyone I know."

Vin nodded slowly, chewing his thoughts over. If Maude was involved it explained a hell of a lot. It still left a bunch of questions unanswered, like where she got the money from, and how exactly it was 'inconvenient'. But Maude was far, far less dangerous a source than he had feared.

He offered the kid a lop-sided smile.

"Does that mean you aren't going to tell Mr. Larabee?"

Vin shook his head. "I'll tell him more or less what you told me. He'll be happy enough with that."

"Really?"

No, not as naïve as you look, Vin thought. "It'll do for now. I'll talk to Ezra maybe, see what he thinks."

JD nodded. "Okay. It's nothing bad, you know? Ez wouldn't do anything wrong, you know that?"

"I know that," Vin agreed, not quite sure if he really meant it, or if he just couldn't face the thought of spending the next half hour listening to the virtues of Ezra Standish. He had a nasty feeling he might have to do that anyway.

\---------------------------

Ezra sighed contentedly. The bed was warm and he could smell coffee. "JD?" he said around yawn. He looked blearily for his lover, and decided that he must be up. Possibly making coffee. Bliss. He let himself drift into a pleasant doze.

Some time later he jolted bolt upright out of a dream where shadows followed him, and he fled. The rumbling of some vast articulated monster of a vehicle was, it appeared, thunder being incorporated into his sleep. Light flooded the room and faded instantly, yet another crack of thunder detonating directly above his head. He sat still, wide eyed, his heart racing and his breathing gradually slowing down again. That was a hell of a way to wake up.

The clock told him it was early afternoon, and he winced a little. JD must have gone on out without him. He pushed the bedding back and pattered into the bathroom, shivering a little at the chill coming down with the pounding rain. He'd need to turn the heating up a little, he thought, and got into the shower, taking his time. He was lucky that he'd finished up in the electric powered shower and was used to a straight edge razor when the power cut out.

He blinked a little, waiting out the adjustment to the relative dark, then finished up. He was going to have to check the generator, and maybe take a look in on the horses. He dressed swiftly, ran a towel over his head, and resigned himself to getting thoroughly soaked despite the heavy waterproof coat and pants that he pulled on. Galoshes and a broad brimmed hat completed the ensemble, and he pared a moment's gratitude that JD wasn't present to enjoy it.

He could barely see more than about ten feet in front of him as he trudged over to the stables. The sky lit periodically with brilliant streaks of lightning. It forked and scattered as it reached to the ground, and the thunder kept rolling, like a marble in a wooden bowl, rumbling and resounding, never quite fading into complete silence before the next strike crashed though the clouds. Rain blew into his face, and he'd barely taken ten steps before his whole body was clammy and cold.

The horses were going to be miserable. Nichols had called yesterday to let him know he wouldn't be able to make it over this weekend, so apart from the storm, which would have them antsy enough, they'd be standing knee deep in muck.

"Hey there, girl," he said easily, pushing the hat back from his face so Pasada didn't attempt to bite him. She huffed a sigh and dropped her head, startling a little at a new lightning strike, but not terribly bothered. He shook his head.

"They aren't going to be happy." He eyed the two empty stalls, and remembered that Vin had mentioned something about taking JD up the back trail to look over a possible bike route. Well, better they be on horses than machines in this, he thought, and winced as his ready imagination supplied gruesome images of his two friends mangled beyond recognition under out of control motorcycles in the treacherous conditions. Then it switched to wondering if Zebulon was handling the storm okay, and if Jellicle's off hind had been re-shoed like he'd asked a week ago. He should have checked, but between work and JD, his face softened into a happy smile, well, he'd been distracted. Falling in love would do that to a man, he absolved himself.

"Wouldn't it, chiquita?" he said to Pasada, who snorted. Clearly she was unimpressed at being second best to a scrawny twenty-something with more education than he knew what to do with, and an endearing line in naiveté. "Ah, I haven't forgotten you," he said. "Or you," and he rubbed a hand over Asher's nose ridge. The horse ducked his head and shifted uneasily as what felt like the crack of doom blasted his ears. "Easy, boy, easy," he said reassuringly. He looked at the exit anxiously. Hopefully JD and Vin would be sensible enough to find shelter. He found himself biting his lip, and stopped himself, pursing his lips together tightly. "Well, I don't have time to deal with those silly boys."

He hung his hat and coat up, and lit a storm lantern -- a flashlight by any other name. Talking of which. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, absently noting the cobwebs and straw on the rafters, ah yes. The fuck-off big flashlight he'd kept when he'd last been on a night time raid was still somewhere in the generator shed from the last power outage. Under the lantern's light he was pleasantly surprised to find the two empty stalls had already been mucked out. He turned Asher and Pasada out to the field, discovering in the process that they too had been cleaned up.

The two horses seemed less than thrilled with this turn of affairs and huddled together under the wind break that only sheltered them from one side and from above.

He stomped across to the small shed where the backup generator that he'd had installed was clearly not working. It took him a scant five minutes after examining it with his large Scully-torch, as purloined from the FBI who'd been with them on the raid, to discover that something was clogged inside the works. It looked like some sort of rodent. A deceased rodent.

"Damn." He looked at the matted fur for some time before closing the lid to the unit carefully, and snapping the catches in place. He ran his flashlight over the edges of the door, then ran his fingers under the edges. No gaps.

"_Damn_." No boyfriend here. No friends here. About to go under on an unexpectedly big job, the power goes out in the middle of a storm, and his generator has a mouse in it. He snorted faintly and resisted the obvious remark. He'd save it for an audience. He flicked the flashlight off, and stood very still, listening. He couldn't hear anything but the thunder and the rain, and between them, he was going to be hard pressed to locate any intruders.

Maybe he hadn't been supposed to find out? Storms of this sort usually hit during the summer afternoons, as the heat rising from Colorado's desert landscape hit the cold air piling up against the Rockies. By this time of year, the storms were usually over. Maybe they hadn't expected there to be a power outage. At least, not one caused by nature.

He shivered, wishing that one of his team mates were there. JD was fine as a companion, but he did wonder how the kid would cope with the violence of his world. Academia wasn't exactly known for equipping kids to survive gun battles. He shook himself. JD had had enough real life already. He'd be fine, he told himself firmly.

But he'd seen the nervous glances at where his gun would normally sit in its holster last night. He wondered what the kid and Buck had talked about at lunch together. Buck was good hearted, and honest. It would be only too easy for Buck to share something that Ezra had not quite gotten around to mentioning. Undercover ops. Bigotry in the FBI. Team Seven's injury rate. The Lasater case.

On the whole he suspected that at some point the conversation had reached the subject of guns, gun control and law enforcement.

White light fleetingly floodlit the cracks in the wall of the generator shed, and Ezra dragged himself back to the here and now as the inevitable crash followed. He'd messed around with bare hands in here; the chances were that Mrs. Flores had been in here at some point, and Mr. Nichols. Fingerprinting the equipment would doubtless show only those hands to have touched it. How to approach this?

Was it Lasater, or some other grudge holding felon that had set up his house for some sort of horror movie scenario? If it was Lasater then they had a bigger problem than rats in the generator. He chuckled under his breath.

A terrible thought struck him. What if this was not aimed at him? What if Torrence, who seemed to have tracked his money to JD, had decided to take some sort of direct action to retrieve his property? He stopped dead in his tracks, cold to the core. What if Torrence knew about the sale -- he seemed to know about everything else. What if he decided that the money had bought JD, and that meant _he_, Jacob Torrence, owned one John Dunne, for the duration of that damned contract.

Curious how he could actually feel blood draining away from his face, and bile burning the back of his throat.

He picked up a set of screwdrivers, and headed back to the house. He stumbled a little as he walked. The grass was slippery, and a young river seemed to be developing along the path between the stables and the main building, and he almost lost his footing on unexpected stones a couple of times.

The house was still dark, and he went around it methodically, lighting candles, unplugging electrical equipment, locking and bolting every door that had a manual lock on it. He took a screwdriver from the set he'd brought in, found a pair of evidence gloves from his jacket pocket and settled himself by the telephone in the kitchen.

It was the work of approximately a minute to remove the main cover of the handset and base unit, and discover the tiny piece of additional wiring clipped to the mouth piece and earpiece. He shut his eyes briefly, he was going to have to bring Chris in on this. He was going to have to lay the whole thing out in front of him, because if it wasn't Lasater, wasn't some old grudge, then all hell could be about to let loose.

The last thing he wanted to do.

Lightning snapped across the sky again, but it didn't brighten the room as much as the last few had, and he looked up. The clouds were slowly parting. He could see blue sky in the distance, a ragged patch barely enough for a pocket handkerchief. Precursor to an evening of clear skies, a freezing night, and if he knew Colorado weather at all by now, the first ice on the roads in the morning.

He sat and stared at the dismembered handset until the thunder died away.

\----------------------------

JD had been anticipating dry clothes and a hot drink and Ezra for some time now, peering up through the rain hoping for a sign of the house. "You sure we're going the right way?" he asked, not for the first time. Tanner just looked at him and JD lifted his hands in surrender. "Sorry, yes, you know where you are, blindfold, tied up, one leg missing in a tornado."

Vin grinned at him. "And don't you forget it," he said. He looked up and frowned. "I'd'a thought we'd've seen the lights by now," he added.

JD shrugged. "Maybe he went out."

"He'd still put the lights on for us in this weather. He always does."

JD tried to ignore the stab of jealousy. Ezra had known these guys far longer than he'd known him. "Yeah?"

Vin sat back in the saddle and shook his head. "Power's probably out."

"Huh." He wondered if that sounded rude, and quickly asked, "does that happen often out here?"

"Often enough."

"What's that mean?" He couldn't seem to stop the note of irritation in his voice, and stopped, took a deep breath. "Once a year, once a month?" he smiled, "Should I be laying in a stock of batteries and flashlights?"

Vin smiled back. "Out here, might be a good plan anyway. Maybe couple of times since I've known him."

JD wanted to ask him how long that had been, but didn't. He'd just come off sounding stupid. Or maybe it would be a natural thing to do, ask. Bit of small talk.

"You reckon you could find the trail again?" Vin asked him and JD had to struggle to deal with the actual conversation instead of the imaginary one that was ringing in his head.

"Yeah. Is it safe in this kinda weather?"

"Same's most places when you're dirt biking."

JD nodded, and felt tension slide from his shoulders as a dark building emerged from the sheeting rain. Home. He picked up the pace a little, and Vin sped up too, both hurrying silently into the dark stable yard. He dismounted hastily and led Jellicle inside. His hand swiped for the light switch, he couldn't find it at first and when he did, nothing happened. He flipped it a couple of times and sighed. "Power's out."

"Thought so," Vin was right behind him.

JD nodded. "Good call. You know where--"

"Hang on to Zeb would ya?" Vin handed him Zebulon's reins and JD listened to his booted feet on the stone floor. Zebulon whickered softly and dropped his head to JD's hand.

"Ain't got nothing for you," he said softly, and scratched the bridge of the horse's nose. "That good, hmm?"

Jellicle whuffled and stepped closer, more or less trapping him between the two horses. JD laughed under his breath. "You guys are soaked, aren't you?"

A light glowed dimly and swung as it approached, casting wildly dancing shadows around the stable. "Vin?"

"Rain's stopped," Vin said. "Here." He handed JD a lantern and took Zebulon's reins back. "Put a blanket over Jellicle's stall."

"Thanks." JD led Jellicle into her stall and unsaddled her. The leather was only wet around the edges, his body had kept most of it dry. "Here you go, girl," he said as he rubbed her down, "Better now, hey?"

He discarded the wet, filthy towel and pushed his own dripping hair back off his face. He checked her over carefully -- no cuts or bruises; nothing caught in her hooves, and smiled, patting her withers. "There you go, Jelly-girl," he said as he laid the thick blanket over her back. "Bet that's better."

"JD?" JD turned, a smile spreading across his face without him even realizing it.

"Ez!"

"Hey, Ez," Vin called from the next stall where he was finishing the same routine with Zebulon. "Power off?"

"Rats in the generator."

There was a short silence, and JD wondered why it felt tense.

"Regular rats or the two legger variety?" Vin said.

"A very good question, Agent Tanner," Ezra said. JD's head jerked around to look at him.

"What's going on?" he asked sharply.

"Another good question," Ezra stepped into the stall, running a hand along Jellicle's back. "And still I have no answers."

Ezra was wearing waterproofs, JD noticed as he moved closer. "What's going on, Ez?" he asked again, more quietly, more anxiously. Ezra pulled him closer with an arm over his shoulder, but spoke to Vin. "I would appreciate it if you would examine the interior of your cellular phone."

Vin had turned and was leaning on the wooden wall between the two stalls, one eyebrow raised. His head tilted and Ezra nodded. JD looked from one to the other, envying the silent communication, wondering what it meant, wishing Ezra would let him in.

"Ezra?"

"In a minute, John," Ezra said, tightening his arm. Vin stripped gloves from his hands and pulled his phone out. He pried the back off, and dismembered it swiftly, laying plastic cover, battery, card, keypad, protective backing out in a neat line. He looked up.

"Can you get that light--?"

JD wordlessly reached across Ezra to the lantern and held it over the parts of the phone until Vin looked up, shaking his head. "Nothin'."

Ezra sighed and even through their respective layers of clothing JD could feel the slight slump that indicated draining tension before Ezra shifted, standing taller somehow.

"Good. My dear, do you have your cell-phone?" Ezra smiled at JD, who nodded, and pulled it from his pocket, offering it silently. Vin reached out for it and rapidly opened it up too.

"I've only had it a couple of weeks," he said, puzzled, "what are you looking for?"

Vin's eyes flicked up and back to the phone.

"Bugs," Ezra said tersely. JD looked up at him.

"_Bugs_?"

"Clean," Vin said before JD could get any answers and handed it back to him.

JD turned it over in his hands, looking carefully at it. "Who's gonna bug my phone?"

He looked up when there was no reply to find Vin staring at Ezra, and Ezra staring at Vin's hands resting on top of Vin's own mostly rebuilt cell-phone.

"Ez?"

"You gonna explain it or not?" Vin said mildly, breaking the silence. Ezra turned away. "He's not the only one wondering what's going on, Ez."

"Come inside, both of you. I lit a fire when it became clear we would not be getting electricity back anytime soon."

"Ezra--" Vin said as Ezra guided JD out of the stables. JD looked back over his shoulder, worried. Vin was watching them. In the flickering dark, as the wind swung the lantern, his face looked grim and stern.

Ezra tensed, then nodded without turning back to face him. "I will call him forthwith."

"Him?" JD asked, hurrying to keep up. "Who? Who are you calling? Ezra, I don't understand what's going on. Is it ATF stuff? Is that why the power's out?"

Ezra ushered him into the kitchen and JD shivered convulsively. The warmth of the house suddenly made him realize how very cold and wet he was.

"Go dry off," Ezra said firmly, and gave him a little push towards the door to the rest of the house. "I'll explain everything -- everything I _can_ explain -- when you get back downstairs. There's a fire in the main room, and I've got towels warming by it."

"Really?" JD paused, one foot on the stairs. "How'd you--"

Ezra raised an eyebrow. "I looked outside."

JD nodded, not quite sure whether the short answer meant Ezra was angry or worried or what. He wanted to ask, but Ezra was already turning into the main living room, and the chance passed. A moment later Vin appeared. He'd already stripped off his coat and was rapidly unbuttoning his soaked shirt as he followed Ezra. JD turned away and ran up the stairs.

There were bigger things to worry about than Vin Tanner being entirely too comfortable running around half naked in _his_ house. Okay, Ezra's house, but still. He was being ridiculous. And if he wasn't, he didn't want to know.

* * *

Chris sprinted across the yard, skidded in the mud and only just righted himself. Nonetheless, he got to the phone just in time to catch Ezra's voice saying goodbye as he finished leaving a message on the answer phone.

"Ezra?" he snatched up the phone but only got the dial tone. "Dammit." He looked back at the track of filthy footprints across the kitchen. "Damn it," he repeated.

He rubbed a muddy hand across his face, trying to wipe the rain away. The storm was passing. To the east he could see lightening that suggested that blue sky was not far behind the clouds, in the west, lightning still struck, thunder rumbling in its wake. He laughed softly, Sarah would never have let him in the house in this state. He'd dripped mud everywhere, even, he suspected, on the phone, which meant picking at it with a pin or a paperclip later. A hank of hair flopped wetly down across his forehead and into his eyes, and he brushed it back impatiently. He hit the 'play' button and waited.

"This had better be good, Standish," he muttered as the machine announced that he had one new message. "I know, just give me the damn message already."

_"Chris, Ezra. I have a bit of a problem with a power cut, and was wondering if you could help out a neighbor. If you could call back, I'm on my cell phone."_

Chris was surprised. Ezra might not live far, but he could count on one hand the number of times that he'd called for things not related to work. A power cut? He pulled off his boots and walked in stocking feet back across the kitchen, careful not to slip on the smooth tiles. He rinsed the mud off his hands, then dunked his head under the tap as well, gasping a little as the hot water hit his frozen scalp.

Chores were done. Maybe Ezra need a part or something. He could call, check he was okay, then either head on over there or grab a shower. Actually, maybe he could grab a shower first. He looked longingly up the stairs, then sighed. His instincts were urging him to call. Ezra never asked for help. It had to be more urgent than it sounded. He pulled the hand towel off its hook and scrubbed roughly at his face and hair, then let it around his neck to soak up the drips as he headed back for the phone. Okay. Call Ezra and see what he needed.

The phone only rang once before it was picked up. "Chris?"

"Ezra. I got your message. What's the problem?"

"I seem to have a rat in my generator."

Chris tensed. "What sort of rat?"

"Rattus rattus," I believe," Ezra said dryly.

Chris started to grin. "You let a rat get in your power generator? Ezra, that has to be a new low."

"Yes, I'm sure it's very amusing, sir," Ezra said lightly. "Rats in my generator, insects in my walls, The entertainment just never ends."

"Sounds like you need an exterminator, not a neighbor," Chris said, grinning. He wiped water out of his face and wandered upstairs. Definitely a shower and then maybe a meal.

"I would appreciate your opinion on the right sort of exterminator."

Chris frowned. "Ezra?"

"I would really appreciate your input on my infestation problem, Chris, if you have the time."

Chris stopped in his tracks. Infestation. Insects. _Bugs_? Damn. He stripped his shirt off as he headed into the bathroom, and asked, "How widespread?"

"Fairly localised, in so far as I am able to tell. Of course, my localized current power failure is not assisting."

"I hear that." Although if Ezra's house was bugged, hopefully they were feeding off a trickle charge in the house electricity, and weren't individually powered. Except Ezra knew that and presumably had checked his cell before calling him on it. "Ezra, look, stay where you are, I'll be over in an hour, no more. I'll bring along a tool kit."

_And maybe a couple of experts while I'm at it._

"Thank you."

"I'll see you then." He hung up, and dropped the phone. It took him three minutes to shower off, barely time to get wet, never mind warm. Grains of mud were still sluicing down the drain as he pulled on jeans and a sweater. He called Buck, got no answer at the condo, and called his cell as he hurried through the house, picking up badge, gun, toolkit. Candles and flashlights went in as an afterthought. Still no answer, and he swore, waited for the voicemail, and said, "Buck, Ezra's place is out of power. You re-wired that old place of Josiah's for him, right? You want to swing by and give us a hand? Bring everything you need for dealing with wires and power, okay? Ezra's just as likely to kill me as himself trying to fix it. Buck. Get moving. Put her down, and go. _Now_, Buck." He hung up, ready to go. Hopefully Buck would get the message.

Oh, yes. One more thing. He fished out a small screwdriver and undid the back of first his landline and then his cell. Both looked clean. He looked at the insides of the two phones for a long moment, then sighed and put them back together, then headed out.


	18. Tritus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Competition. Survival of the fittest. Who can you trust? Whose side are you on? And is anyone on yours...?

The quiet murmur of voices stopped as JD walked into the living room, and Vin and Ezra looked up.

Ezra's welcoming look at him eased an odd sort of tightness in his chest, and Ezra's words loosened shoulder muscles that the dribble of the unpowered shower had not been able to cure.

"A great improvement over the drowned rat look," Ezra said with a glimmer of a smile and JD relaxed and smiled back in sheer relief, and leaned against the side of Ezra's chair.

"You okay?" JD ran a hand over Ezra's hair, which was dry.

"The value of investing in good quality wet weather gear."

"Hah!" Vin snorted. "The value of being more worried about a little damp than the Wicked Witch of the West. I swear I've seen him wear that stuff just cause there's a little old cloud coming up in the west."

"And yet I have remained dry, while you have gone for the drowned lap-dog look. Most attractive."

JD grinned and perched on the arm of the chair, slipping his arm casually over Ezra's shoulder. "I'll keep you warm," he offered cheerfully, tugging him a little closer.

"You're so generous," Ezra said, deadpan, and leaned in with a smirk at Vin, who threw up a hand before his eyes in mock horror.

"God, anything but that," Vin said, laughing. "Notice he ain't promising 'dry'."

JD reddened but didn't deny it -- but did try to change the subject. "Um. I think there's some hot water left, if you wanted to shower?"

"I've just about dried out, thanks," he shook his head, then glanced at Ezra who frowned faintly. Whatever Vin had been about to say in addition he kept to himself.

"What's going on?" JD asked, looking between the two of them.

"We're waiting on Mr. Larabee's presence before going any further with that discussion," Ezra told him. "Instead, I was thinking that we should explore the options of cooking over an open fire." Ezra nodded at the log fire burning in the fireplace with an air of doubtful resolution.

"Cool." JD hesitated, "Isn't that going to mess up your carpet?" Do we even _have_ anything that could be cooked over an open fire? he wondered.

"You've corrupted him, Ez," Vin said solemnly. A smile flashed briefly, teeth white in the dark but before anything else could be said someone rapped sharply on the outside door.

"I'll get it--" JD stopped. Twin metallic clicks, and both Vin and Ezra were standing. Both of them were holding guns, glinting dark in the firelight, held low. They were moving noiselessly towards the door, taking either side of the hall without a word.

"Ez?" he whispered, shocked. It was like suddenly being in the middle of a movie, without the option to leave the theater, or pause the DVD.

"Stay here," Ezra said sharply, his eyes dark and unreadable in the shadows, his voice barely audible. As a seeming afterthought he added, "If anything happens, get out. Take the Jag and go. Leave the bike, and call Chris."

JD stepped back, opened his mouth to protest, but Ezra's hand was up, "Quiet."

JD nodded. He felt hollow, a weird shaking in his stomach that he wanted to believe was fear, and that he suspected was excitement. He followed, slowly and cautiously, his bare feet making no sound. He ought to find his sneakers, find the keys to the Jag, but instead he lurked by the door of the living room, watching, the silence so acute that he could hear his heart beat, and every breath sounded like a rattling gale.

There was a murmur of voices, and the soft sound of Ezra chuckling under his breath. He squinted, and an abrupt movement split the shadows into reality and illusion. The two agents were dark shapes, one against either wall of the foyer. In the light from the fanlight he could make out the blunt shape of a gun held low in a two handed grip, and took a step back, surprised when his shoulders hit the wall. When had he gotten through the living room door? He slid sideways out of the direct line of sight of the front door, telling himself that he was getting ready to run for the kitchen and the keys on the side there, and knowing it for a lie.

Vin's hand was pale against the dark of his pants with three fingers splayed out, then two, JD just about realized he was seeing a countdown, and Ezra slammed the door open, using it as cover, Vin out in the open, plastered against the wall, gun held straight out, dead center on the man standing there.

"Hands--" Vin only got the first word out before he stopped. "Chris."

"Put it away," their visitor snapped irritatedly, and JD watched as Chris Larabee stalked through the entrance and down to the living room, ignoring both of his agents in grand style. He had no doubt that the man had seen him in his swift survey of the interior of the hall and environs, but ignored him. He felt vaguely disgruntled until he heard the muttered, "Fucking pair of drama queens."

JD's lips twitched. So maybe being ignored was for the best then. He trailed meekly after the three of them into the living room and lurked behind Ezra's chair until Larabee sat in it.

"Excuse me for thinking that a bug in my cellular telephone might possibly be worthy of a little drama," Ezra said mildly.

Larabee grunted, then looked at JD. He'd been right. Being ignored was better. The man managed, without saying a word, to express his opinion that JD had no business being there.

"John--" Ezra began, and JD gritted his teeth. He was going to tell him to leave. He tried very hard to tell himself it was fair enough, they were federal agents and as Vin had so recently pointed out, he was an unknown security risk.

"Federal stuff, huh?" he said, trying to sound like he didn't care.

"I'm afraid so," Ezra said. He did him the courtesy of facing him directly, stepping close enough to take JD's hand and rub his thumb over his knuckles. JD stared at the smooth, slender fingers rather than look at him. "I am sorry, darlin'."

The hell of it was that he _sounded_ sorry, and all JD could think was that Ezra lied to people for a living.

"'S okay," he said. He didn't sound like he didn't care, which was a pity, because he felt like he was going to come off like a sulky child sent to his room. "You guys have got business to do. I'll just go file my nails or something."

And oh yeah, that sounded real mature, he mocked himself. Ezra's whore, useful for fucking and getting out of the way. No. That wasn't fair on Ez.

"Good boy," Larabee said, and he held himself still at the edge of mockery in Larabee's voice, and reminded himself that he didn't care what the fuck that man thought. Ezra loved him. He'd said so, and he'd meant it, and he'd said it again.

Except... Oh fuck this. He shrugged and headed for the study and his laptop. Then stopped and swore again, because the fucking power was out and even if the laptop battery was good for four hours, the net connection wouldn't work. He hesitated.

Looked back, and hesitated some more.

Chris, Vin and Ezra were talking ATF stuff. That bug had to be something to do with their job, even if it wasn't the case they were working on right now. At any rate, it didn't involve him; it didn't matter if they didn't involve him.

Yeah, pull the other one, Dunne.

He drew a deep breath. He wanted to be adult and mature about it. He should keep out of their way. Ezra'd probably prefer him to be somewhere else while he went under anyway. Wasn't that what Buck had meant? No inconvenient boy friends for the crooks to find. Maybe he could go visit with Casey, she'd been asking him to come over. He could head into town and work at the math school's lab until Ez let him know it was safe to come back.

Hell, he could stay in Denver itself a couple of nights. For that matter, if he wanted to, he didn't need charity. He could afford to stay at one of the really swanky hotels if he wanted to. That sounded kinda fun actually.

He glanced back at the living room and the rapid discussion. That would be best. He should make himself scarce anyway. Buck had said as much. Ezra wouldn't want to have to explain a boyfriend to anyone investigating him during the op. He might as well just go take Casey up on her offer of a place to stay for a couple of weeks. Days. A couple of days, he corrected himself with a sinking feeling.

He'd just pack some things and tell Ezra.

* * *

"Hey kid, how's it hanging?"

JD startled and gripped the side of the closet before he got control of his sudden fear. He took a deep breath then turned, casually dropping his filled backpack on the carpet. "All right. You okay?" he said easily. "When did you get here?"

"Few minutes ago." Buck was holding something that look almost like a radio, and JD cocked his head curiously. "Wanna see?" Buck tilted the screen towards JD. When JD took a step closer his eyes crinkled up in a smile. "This here's a bug finder. And I'm doing a proper sweep of the place to check you boys don't have any more roaches, if you see what I mean."

JD nodded in comprehension. Buck lifted it towards the ceiling and walked slowly around the room, then quartered it in slow, patient steps. "Anything?"

"Probably not, but just in case --" he put a finger to his lips for silence. "Still, those roaches, you never know. Sometimes, we have to get right into the walls just to be sure. Pull the place to pieces."

JD grinned. "Ez's gonna love that." Buck managed to make it seem ordinary and fixable. Not like the others with their sudden secrets and dark, formless air of threat and menace.

Buck waggled his eyebrows. "I like to be thorough." And he tapped thoughtfully on the wall, then proceeded to tap his way around the bedroom. "What you doing skulking up here anyway?"

JD shrugged glumly. "They needed some alone time to talk federal agent type stuff." Buck looked at him, and those dark eyes seemed to take in far more than he wanted seen.

"Hmm." Buck finished tapping around the walls and was examining the light fittings. He didn't look up, engrossed in turning Ezra's bedside light upside down and shaking it. "You and Ez had that talk yet?"

JD scowled. "Nah. We -- we're getting to it."

"Uh huh."

"That's right."

"Okay then."

"Good."

"Well, guess you'd better get to it pretty soon," Buck said mildly, and walked across the precisely made bed to the other light, leaving oval dints in the immaculate comforter. He dropped to a sitting position and grinned a little as he bounced. "Nice bed."

JD blushed.

"That your bag over there?" Buck jerked his heads towards the stuffed backpack, a pair of jeans hanging out the top.

"Yeah." He didn't quite dare look up at first, but when there was no reply, he snuck a glance at Buck. Buck was unscrewing the base of the lamp, all his attention on the tiny screw and screwdriver. "I just thought -- if he's going under? And I'm going to be in the way. And there's bugs and stuff, so--"

"If Lassiter's bugged him," Buck said calmly, looking at him, "then he already knows far too much and the op's a failure already. You ain't going to make no difference to it."

JD blinked. Oh. _Oh_. He and Ez -- and there'd been several phone calls when -- and... He could feel his face burning, and hunched his shoulder as Buck chuckled richly.

"There's federal regulations on that sort of talk you know, kid," he laughed, and JD half turned away.

"Whatever," he muttered. Jeeze. He'd been careful not to call any phone except Ezra's designated personal cell after the mistake of calling Larabee the first time. And now it seemed someone had been recording those anyway. Abruptly he felt sick. "You find anything?"

Buck's eyebrows twitched together, as though surprised. "No. Looks pretty clean to me."

JD nodded. "I could go stay with friends."

"You running away?" Buck asked bluntly. "Didn't take you for chicken."

"I ain't! I just -- I thought it would be best, you know?"

"I don't know. You talk to Ezra about it first. And start by asking him what he wants or he'll tell you to do whatever you want."

JD bit the inside of his cheek, a nervous habit that didn't really help but at least wasn't totally obvious. "Okay."

* * *

Ezra was turning his cell phone over in his hands, staring at it. "And _I'm_ saying that it isn't," he said flatly.

"Ezra," Chris sounded almost sympathetic which was worse than him sounding angry. "This isn't about your feelings; it's about how well you know him. He's into all this technology, he's jumped into bed with you, no offense, and we barely know anything about him."

"I know that he wouldn't do this," Ezra said hardily and looked up. "Why will you not trust my judgment on this one thing?"

"You _know_ why." No hint of reprieve. "Look, either I question him now, informally, and we accept that he's innocent in this, or I make a federal case of it. Literally. You really want that?"

He tried one last time, "I assure you--"

"Ezra..." Chris rubbed a weary hand over his face and left it there for a long moment, propping his head as he sighed.

"For what it's worth, Ezra," Vin said quietly, "I think you're right. It's just a matter of checking his story."

Ezra looked down helplessly, staring at his hands folded quietly in his lap, and wondered how the hell it had come to this. "Can't we investigate the obvious avenues first?"

"Ez, he _is_ the obvious avenue. Hell, if Travis knew he'd be sending in another team and pulling us off this." Chris paused, "Ezra, we're trying to help you."

"But not JD."

"We don't know him." And so they came back to the simple, irrefutable truth. They didn't know JD; Ezra was running on instinct; it could all be the way Vin and Chris made it sound.

Would Maude set him up like that? In a heart beat, if she thought it would be good for him. And Donna had said it herself: 'John really thinks he could do anything to pay off that debt'. Could Maude have gotten to the kid before the auction ever happened? Taken a chance that Ezra would like what he saw? His instincts insisted no, JD couldn't do that to him; was not capable of playing a part -- playing _him_ \-- so thoroughly, so heartlessly.

What if he was wrong? It wouldn't be the first time a man had believed the insistent clamor of his heart over the advice of good, well-meaning friends, and lived to regret it.

He looked up, and knew that he'd lost all hope when he saw JD standing in the hall, staring at him, dark eyes anxious, hopeful. A packed bag at his feet.

JD wanted out.

He'd been a fool.

"Ezra?"

"A moment please?" He stood and walked into the hall, then the kitchen. Perhaps JD would follow. Perhaps he would just get enough space to regroup. Footsteps behind him. Perhaps.

"John?" he asked, without turning around.

"Ezra." A hand tentatively touched his arm, and when he didn't respond, withdrew. "Ez, look, if I'm in the way I can--"

Was _that_ what the stupid boy was thinking? Relief overwhelmed all other thoughts. He turned and gripped JD's upper arms. "For a man of science in pursuit of his third degree you are quite remarkably dim sometimes." He shook him slightly. JD's face softened, the hardness of a jaw clenched, shoulders braced against some inchoate fear easing and dissipating. JD ducked his head, looked away from him.

"I thought you'd want me out of here," he mumbled.

"What the hell for?" He was half prepared to hear him say something about over hearing Chris just now, and so was completely thrown. JD snatched a look at him.

"Buck said you were going undercover and you wouldn't be able to have anyone around to compromise that and I was going to get you killed if I didn't wise up, and--"

_Buck_? "JD. JD, slow down. When was this?" If he hadn't been holding onto JD so tightly he rather thought his hands would have been shaking, so angry was he.

"Yesterday. Ez, I don't want you to get hurt--"

"Whereas I have an almost overwhelming desire to get Buck Wilmington hurt," he said through gritted teeth. JD winced and tugged a little at his grip, and Ezra loosened it, but didn't let go. He didn't mean to leave bruises, though he suspected that he had, his skin was so pale, and marked so readily. Not the moment for that. First, deal with the look in JD's eyes. "I was going to talk it through with you tomorrow," he put all the sincerity he could find into the words. John had to believe him. For once, he didn't care about anything else, about odds or outcomes or alternate eventualities. There was only one acceptable outcome here. "Don't go."

Although he hadn't quite meant to be that honest. The waver in his voice was unfeigned, and he found it hard to hold JD's eyes for some reason; something about not leaving any walls in the way of regaining the trust that he hadn't realized he wanted so badly.

JD touched his face, brushing the back of his fingers lightly against Ezra's cheek, leaving a lingering sense of presence and tenderness, an aftertouch of love. "He said you'd have to go undercover."

"Maybe." Ezra looped his hands loosely around JD's waist. "If the listening device is for Lassater's benefit, then there's no point. But even if I went under, that's no reason for you to leave."

"Buck said that." His voice was a little muffled, with his face resting as it was against Ezra's shoulder. Ezra pressed his cheek against the damp hair tickling at his jaw line.

"I was going to explain, I promise." Though he had no idea how he'd been going to explain. It occurred to him that if JD _had_ left, just temporarily, it would have been the best solution all around. Well, except for the idea of his absence making him feel unreasonably depressed. It wasn't as though he wasn't ever coming back. He caught himself biting his lip and stopped. And that was a trick he'd picked up from his lover. He frowned at JD, who didn't look up and so didn't see.

"Okay."

Much too trusting. "Ow!" JD stepped back and punched him in the chest.

"So what were you thinking?" JD snapped, and Ezra blinked.

"Mostly, I was hoping to have a weekend full of enjoying every variation of being with you that I could find."

JD kissed him, then swatted him again. "You're an idiot, you know?"

"A little less physical abuse would be appreciated."

JD smiled faintly. "Ez, even I know you're stalling."

Ezra ducked his head in agreement. "Why do we have these discussions in the kitchen?" he asked. "I have a perfectly good collection of really quite comfortable furniture in almost every other room of the house."

He felt JD's laughter before he heard it, "What?" he asked suspiciously.

"Kitchen table was pretty comfortable last time you sat on it," JD said, his amusement bubbling up with wicked glee, "if I remember correctly, you fell asleep on it."

Ezra felt his skin flushing, not from embarrassment so much as -- JD shifted against him and it was immediately clear that he was not the only one thinking fondly of alternative uses of the kitchen furniture.

"Now's not a good time," he suggested half heartedly, and was vaguely disappointed when JD shifted back a ways. Just far enough that he felt obliged to get a hold of himself. "Okay. Are we good?"

JD nodded. "Yeah, but it doesn't mean I should stay."

Ezra suppressed the urge to tear his hair out or punch something -- preferably his boss. "Chris wants to talk to you."

"What for?"

"I think it would be better if you talk to Chris."

JD frowned. "Look, I don't mind. I get that you guys are all Law and Order and CSI: Denver and you know, super cops or something. If you want me to get out till you've solved the crime and stuff, I can deal. Really; it's okay."

"I'd almost think you were protesting too much. And there's not much forensic analysis involved in my job. It's not like on TV you know."

"I know," JD said impatiently, but Ezra suspected the kid didn't really believe him. He'd seen his shock when he and Vin had pulled their guns earlier. "Look, you're really okay with me staying here while you're undercover?"

"You told him?" Chris's voice behind them was ice cold, and JD's eyes went wide.

"Buck told me, Ezra didn't say a word, I--"

"I would have told him, yes, if Mr. Wilmington had not seen fit to forestall me."

"Ezra!" JD hissed.

"I see." Larabee raked his eyes over the two of them. "Standish, I can carry on from here."

Ezra stiffened. Not in his lifetime. "I think I would rather stay."

"I think you'd rather leave. Vin!" Vin appeared a moment later, looking disapproving. Ezra couldn't be sure what was causing the frown and narrowed eyes, and pulled JD in to his side. "Get him out of here."

"What's going on?" JD asked, looking from one to the other of them. "Why can't Ezra stay?"

"Because I said so."

"Well, isn't it his home?" JD's defiance was nine tenths bravado, and Ezra's arm tightened as Chris held the kid's gaze. "Isn't it? And if you're gonna interrogate me, don't I get the right to an attorney or something?"

"Don't fuck with me, kid," Chris said softly. "You won't like the results."

"You arresting me? Is that it? What's your fucking problem? Pick on a guy just cuz he's gay and dating one of _your_ boys? I thought you were the good guys." He flung a scathing look that encompassed Vin and an anxious looking Buck who was hurrying into the kitchen after them as well as Chris. "Seems I was wrong."

Ezra could feel the tension in JD, and the fine faint tremors that belied his tough attitude. "You have to admit, he asks some interesting questions." Ezra said mildly. He warned JD into silence with a shake of his head as he heard him draw a breath to speak again. "What exactly is the problem here?"

JD shifted uncomfortably. "JD?"

To Ezra's surprise it was Vin who spoke. "Chris, I really think you're making a mistake."

"Yeah? And what makes you think that?"

Vin shook his head slowly. "Look at 'em, Chris." There was a long silence and Ezra felt tremors run right through him when he saw the fractional slump in Chris's shoulders before the man even spoke, he knew they'd won, if not the whole battle, at least a breathing space.

"Vin." JD spoke before Chris could. "Tell him."

Tell him? Ezra glared at Vin, who smiled faintly at him.

"It was Maude's money," Vin said, meeting Chris's eyes. Ezra blinked.

Chris glanced at him. "That true?"

"Yes." True enough.

"How'd the kid know her?"

"I--"

"He doesn't. The money was transferred through a third party," Vin said for him -- true, but not the whole of the truth. He watched in startled awe the delicate edifice constructed from layer upon layer of hearsay and near-truth, and hoped it would hold.

"That so? Maude." Chris's voice was amused rather than arctic, and Ezra thought, with a little good fortune, the worst might be over. "You could have just said."

Ezra looked at him, incredulous, and a small smile appeared and disappeared so fast from his boss's face that he wondered if he'd imagined it.

"Were you ever going to tell us?" Buck asked. He was still clutching the device for spotting more wiretaps and other listening devices, and Ezra spared a moment to wonder if this was entirely wise, or safe. Perhaps a little late to worry about it.

Ezra offered a half smile. "Would you?"

"Doesn't sound much like Maude," Buck said thoughtfully. "Giving cash away to her son's boyfriend."

Ezra shrugged. "I have never attempted to discover the motivations of my mother. It seems a path fraught with danger, and doomed to failure."

Buck laughed, "You might have a point at that." There was a long pause, and everyone's eyes gravitated to Chris.

"Well?" Ezra said.

"That your bag back there, kid?" Vin asked.

JD nodded. "I thought it might be simpler if I--"

"No," Ezra protested, seeing the look in Chris's eye. "He doesn't have to go, I don't want--"

"You've got a point. Sure make life simpler if we don't have to account for you," Chris said directly to JD. "You got somewhere you can stay for a few days or you need a place?"

JD nodded. He seemed calm enough, but his hand wrapped around Ezra's, painfully tightly. "Got a friend. Casey Wells."

Chris's eyebrows raised briefly. "Okay then, we'll do it that way."

Ezra looked at Vin and Buck. Vin agreed with Chris. He could see that he knew how Ezra felt about it, was even sympathetic, but he wasn't going to let Ezra's personal life overall good sense about the job. Buck looked torn.

"Chris, isn't there another way. It doesn't seem fair to--"

Buck, the romantic. Ezra shook his head slightly. He wasn't sure he could bear to drag this out, hearing the arguments of his own heart flayed apart by logic and proper procedure.

"It's ok." JD spoke first. His grip on Ezra tightened. "I get -- I'd rather you were safe." It was patent on his face how very much he minded, and Ezra shifted slightly. There had to be another way.

"If nothing else," Vin said slowly, "whoever it was, knows about JD. Might be worth taking him out of the equation anyway. Be safest."

* * *

JD sat quietly in the corner of Buck's truck, his bag on the seat between them. Buck had looked at him and then put the radio on, flipping channels until he found something upbeat and cheerful to drown the near palpable misery.

The kid was looking out of the window. All it needed was for it to be fucking raining, Buck thought morosely. And how come he got cast as the bad guy in this damn story, anyway? But the sky, ashamed of the earlier storm, was clear, the stars twinkling, oblivious to JD's mood.

That was stars for you. He tried to think of something to say, but really, the kid didn't look like he wanted cheering up. All the more reason.

"So, you straighten things out with him?"

JD shrugged, didn't answer.

"A little absence -- nothing like getting together after a separation," he tried, with a cheerfully innuendo filled grin.

JD glanced at him and a smile tugged at his mouth. Heartened Buck added, "It'll just be a little while, you'll see."

"Really?"

And oh, that was pathetic, really, in a good way, he added to himself, young love, so needy and -- he wondered if he ever looked that eager to see a girl. Wondered if anyone had been that eager to see him, and felt a stab of something that couldn't possibly be envy. No.

"Yeah," he said easily. "Ez is the best I've ever seen at this stuff; no question of it. We just wind him up and let him go."

JD looked sharply at him, and Buck thought for a moment the kid was going to say something, but all that came out was, "Well, that would explain it."

"Explain what?"

But JD wouldn't say, and Buck gave up asking after a while, and switched subjects.

"You known Casey long?"

JD smiled, "A while. Met her at the Gee -- at some party or other."

"Gee?" Buck blinked a little, and JD bit his lip.

"Just a party."

"Uhuh." Something to get out of the girl later. In his mind's eye Nettie gave him a cold, hard stare. Maybe some other time. Ah, next turn off. He flipped the indicator up. "You eaten today?"

JD shook his head. Of course not. Power cut, all this excitement. "I'm not hungry."

Buck looked at him. "Sure you ain't."

"I'm not."

"I'm agreeing with ya, ain't I?" he said mildly, and turned into the parking lot. "You can wait here."

JD stared at the fast food restaurant, and then at Buck's grin. Buck inhaled deeply, his eyes closing with sheer sybaritic rapture. "Mmmm. Fries." He undid his seatbelt and hopped out of the truck, slammed the door and then stuck his head back through the window. "You sure you don't want anything?"

* * *

JD sighed and bit contentedly into a loaded burger, his eyes closing blissfully. "Mf g'df," he mumbled.

Buck smiled into his coffee, and shrugged. "Don't tell Ez, but times, we stop off here after poker night. Just to get a square meal after all those damn nachos and dips."

JD grinned, swallowed, and laughed. "Yeah? He told me he didn't cook."

"Menial labor," Buck nodded, and pushed the side of onion rings towards him. "Go on, I'm done."

"Thanks." JD hooked one, and stripped it of batter then sucked in the onion. Then slowly picked out the bits of batter from his plate and crunched his way through them one by one. He loved the batter.

"Cooking's an art, and you reduce it to its component parts. Can tell you're a scientist," Buck observed, his voice bland, but when JD looked at him, his eyes were dancing with amusement.

"Engineers are worse," JD said.

"It's just a matter of degree," Buck shook his head, and JD wondered if he'd meant the pun. He considered the broadening grin, and laughed.

"Yes! He shoots!" He scores!" Buck cheered softly, chuckling at JD's smile. "That's better."

JD shrugged. "You don't give up, do you?"

Buck looked thoughtful, and was quiet for nearly half a minute before shaking his head decisively. "Nope."

JD sighed, but couldn't repress the lingering smile. "He's gonna be okay, right?"

Buck's face became solemn. "He's always been okay so far. We don't aim to mess up that perfect record just yet."

This wasn't as comforting as JD had hoped.

"Did you call Casey already?" Buck said abruptly.

"Yeah -- I couldn't just turn up."

"Hmm."

"Why?"

"I was thinking. If you wanted, I've got a spare room. Usually pour -- put Chris in it, but you're welcome to it for a while."

JD cocked a look at him, he hadn't missed that 'poured'. Ezra had said Chris had a drinking problem too. He bit his lip. Was Ezra safe with an alkie for a boss?

"Well?"

"I've already agreed with Casey--"

"You'd be safer at my place. Better not dragging more people into it."

JD couldn't deny that. The thought of someone storming through the hundred year old Wells farmhouse made a shiver run through him.

"You'd be in town. Easier to get to school," Buck added. "Might be easier to meet up with Ezra in the city. Easier to lose a tail in a crowded street."

JD bit his lip. "You'd tell Ez?"

"Sure."

Keeping all this away from Casey and her aunt was a plan worth pursuing. "Nettie'd plug anyone who tried anything."

"Maybe. But I've got a badge as well as a licensed side arm." JD stopped picking at the bits of batter, the grease sitting queasily in his stomach.

"Meaning, that badge gives you the right to kill," he said flatly.

"Meaning, if someone shoots at me, I know what to do. Better me than a little old lady who's been shooting for subsistence the last forty years. Better me than a little girl who's barely started living."

"What if they shoot me?" JD asked curiously and Buck grinned wickedly at him.

"Oh, hell, if it's _you_ I'll let 'em."

"Gee. Thanks," he said, but couldn't repress a smile, and Buck nodded.

"Good boy. Now eat that, and I'll call 'em when we get to my place. Okay?"

JD nodded. "Okay."

"Well, okay then. Now. Let's discuss the house rules."

JD laughed. "Rules? Ez told me he calls that place of yours flea central."

Buck looked hurt, "Eat your damn burger, son." He managed to hold the pose for nearly long enough to convince JD that he'd genuinely offended the man -- and then scratched surreptitiously under the cuff of his sweater. JD choked with laughter.

"_House rules_." JD spluttered.

"Flea central!"

JD was still chuckling off and on half an hour later when they pulled into the parking lot for Buck's condo.

* * *


	19. In Somnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being on your own sucks.

JD woke with a gasp and rolled across to Ezra's side of the bed. Cold sheets, undinted pillows, empty space .... He buried his face in the pillows, swearing. Just another fucking dream.

And still he couldn't forget the touch of Ezra's dreamed hand on his face, the smile in his eyes or the taste of his skin. He flopped back over with a groan. This was insane. Fine. He reached into his shorts and gripped his hard cock, not sure whether he wanted to get off, or squash the damn hard on out of him. His breath came in short hitches and he gritted his teeth, all the muscles in his back and abdomen tensing as he came.

There was no relief in it. His hand was wet, he was going to have to clean up before he messed up the sheets, and all he could do was lie there, breathing hard, staring into the nighttime dark. Pretending that his eyes didn't ache.

It had only been two weeks. Just two lousy weeks with Ezra away undercover, and dammit, he wanted him back.

This was fucking insane.

He rolled out of bed, and padded to the bathroom to clean up.

Maybe tomorrow there would be news.


	20. Carborundum

JD sighed and turned over in bed. The mattress was lumpy -- not so bad he felt like complaining, but he'd gotten used to sleeping on Ezra's big comfy bed, and this really wasn't cutting it. He rolled onto his front, trying for a more comfortable position. If Ezra's undercover op went on for much longer he'd probably have to start sleeping on the floor or bust out and sneak back to home. He grimaced into the pillow and flopped over again onto his back, unable to settle, sleep eluding him. Yeah. Right. He missed the _mattress_.

He slid his hand under his t-shirt and past the waistband of his boxers then paused, listening hard. Buck wasn't home. Seemed like the man had a date every night and never saw the same girl two night running. In his absence the little apartment was quiet; the murmur of traffic ebbing in the late evening. Under it, a low buzz of insects, distant voices -- tv, radio, people talking, he didn't know which, and didn't much care.

His dick was already hardening, anticipating his touch. He closed his eyes, soaking up the feel of his fingers trailing slowly over his skin, pushing down until they scraped through coarse hair, and then wrapped them lightly around the base of his dick, sighing contentedly. He didn't do anything for a moment, then squeezed gently, then eased off. It wasn't enough, god, it was barely anything, but he kept on, closing his grip, releasing it, winding the sensation higher, enjoying the feeling of riding the edge.

Patience, patience...

His shoulders lifted, back arching, his whole body rising to the point marked by his dark cock, tip showing above his hand, base hidden under his shorts. He shifted, got rid of the shorts with quick, frustrated movements, too eager now to wait. No patience, he thought, and the words seemed to have a southern flavor and he moaned. He moved his hand slightly, up just a little, and then down again, and the motion, once started it felt unstoppable, pulling roughly on his dry shaft.

Liquid gathered, and he spread it with his thumb over the head of his dick, sighing, moving restlessly at the new touch, wishing, dreaming. Ezra could suck him like this; had sucked him off like this, holding his thighs down, blowing him as JD stroked his root. He swallowed, and licked his lips, pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, remembering the weight of Ezra's dick in his mouth, the heat and salt-sweetness of his skin; the hot spurt of come. The gentle touch of Ezra's hands, and his kisses.

He moaned again, his hand moving faster, until it began to chafe, and he stopped for a second, licked his palm liberally and reached back down. Saliva wasn't the best of lubricants but it was good enough -- it wasn't going to take long. He ran his other hand down his side, touching lightly, savoring the sensation. He stroked up again, sliding his hand over his stomach, then further, onto his thigh, and inwards, taking his time on the soft skin, exploring it as though he didn't know it millimeter by millimeter. Along his crotch, cupping his balls, taking an imagined path that Ezra watched, commanded, and JD groaned, twisting on the bed, eager for it, half convinced that Ezra was there, that if he opened his eyes he'd find him there, eyes hot on him, hot for him.

He didn't open his eyes.

He slid deeper into the moment, the touches tugging him out of himself, rough pulls on his cock, strong and quick, bringing him to the edge fast, and the light fingers brushing over the skin of his ass, combing through the sparse hair, and further. He pressed a finger in, just a fraction and shook, gasping for air. He moaned again, the noise loud in the still room, losing himself deeper into the pressure and the rhythm, until it blew apart, driving him under, gasping for air, a name tumbling out of him whether he wanted it to or not, and he turned over and buried his face in his pillow, letting the illusion chase him down into sleep.

\------

 

"These are fakes," he said flatly, and ripped the photographs in two, "You stupid bitch, they're fakes."

"But, Sky..." she whined. Skyane Lasater ignored her and dropped the pieces on the floor.

"When I tell you to come to me if *anyone** asks you about me, petal, I mean, *anyone**."

"I told you!" she protested, and then subsided at his furious look.

"Not soon enough, Sukie-sweetheart." There was no affection whatsoever in the pet name. "I knew there was a reason [Standish] was twitchy. Fucking ATF."

"Honey, I didn't--"

"Shut up." He drew a deep breath and looked away, his eyes abstracted, clearly thinking hard. "Okay, this is what you're going to do..."

\------

Ezra stared at the picture, then shoved it back into the envelope. He was surprised to find his hands steady, training still stronger than emotion.

"Ezra?" He looked up at Vin, who had somehow moved to his side without him noticing. "What's wrong?"

He smiled. "A touch of indigestion."

"Yeah?" Vin reached for the envelope. Ezra tried to snatch it away and then gave up. He pushed his chair back a little and looked away, hoping to feign indifference. Vin didn't even look at him before re-opening the stiff brown envelope.

Vin leafed through the dozen or so eight by ten photos, his face grim and getting grimmer. "Shit."

Ezra winced.

"Buck!" Vin called, "c'm 'ere!"

The whole room was watching, as Buck got to his feet and stepped over to Ezra's desk. "Ezra?" he asked, but Ezra said nothing and he turned his attention to Vin, who held out one of the pictures.

"When was that?" he asked.

Buck took it and shook his head, "I don't -- wait. Day before yester-- wait, no, I'm wearing the green shirt." He narrowed his eyes, thinking. "I'm thinking it woulda been Sunday evening. We went to see a film; the kid was miserable as sin." He tapped the photograph, "Yeah, that's on the way back to the car. About quarter past, maybe twenty past eleven."

Vin slid Ezra a look, and said, "When d'you get this, Ez?"

"It was on my desk this morning."

"*Your** desk." Josiah was leaning in too, and Ezra bit back his urge to sarcastically invite the world to take a look at his foolish insecurity. "Now, is that because you work with Buck, or because you sleep with JD?" Ezra snapped his attention back to Josiah, skin crawling unpleasantly.

"What?" he said softly. He'd given up JD for the case -- for just the duration of the case. If they had known anyway ...

Josiah shrugged. "Clearly, someone is has connected one of them with you. The question is: who? Why? And what do they know?"

"The question is, how the hell did those things even get there, and what do they intend by it?" Chris said tersely. He shook his head abruptly and stood. "Ezra, your cover is compromised. I'm pulling you out."

"What? No!" Ezra protested instantly, " We don't even know if it's related to the case, and --"

"You want JD dead?" Larabee leaned in close, and picked up one of the pictures. "I'm not putting this kid -- or Buck -- in danger because of your pride."

"That's not it--" Ezra hesitated. Was that it? He hadn't lost a case yet on the team, but it was nothing to do with breaking an otherwise flawless record in Team Seven. It was about getting Lasater. "We can't let Lasater get away with it. We don't negotiate with criminals." But what if he was putting JD in danger?

"You want him to try getting away with murder?" Chris snapped. He flicked a blunt fingernail right over JD's heart, and Ezra flinched. "That could have been a scope."

He wasn't thinking about that.

"We're so close to getting him."

Josiah shook his head. "I think someone's close, but I'm not sure it's Lasater."

"What?" The discussion degenerated into a hubbub of protests until Chris yelled.

"Shut up the lot of you!" He waited, let the silence spread, and then nodded to Josiah. "Explain."

Josiah shook his head. "It's that style thing. Lasater wouldn't do this. This is too -- too woolly, too vague. A photograph, no note, no markings. Not even a threat. It would have been easy enough to mark up the picture. Add crosshairs or a threat. But it's just..." He frowned. "It reminds me of something."

Buck grinned. "Hell, it looks like one of those scandal photos. You know, celeb seen with new boyfriend." He stopped as all eyes swung to him. "Ah, now, wait. You're not serious--"

"Break Ezra's trust," Josiah nodded thoughtfully, "But in you or in the kid? What's the angle?"

"Two fer one," Vin murmured. "Why stick at either or?"

Josiah nodded curtly. "I'm guessing this was the most 'interesting' picture they could manage."

Buck grinned reluctantly. "I'm not surprised. He's a nice enough kid, but he ain't my type." He rolled his eyes, "Besides, he's so stuck on Ez it's not funny."

Ezra couldn't help a tiny, happy smile at that. More than a month since he'd last seen him, and JD was still fond... Surely he could come up with something better than this? Maybe he could arrange a meet somewhere. Go to a little hotel he knew... "Ow!" He glared at Vin, who just grinned at him.

"Get your head back here, Romeo," Vin chuckled and then sobered. "So, if not Lasater, then who?"

"Who knows enough to go after those two and then send the pictures to Ez?"

Ezra's face hardened. "It's a short list."

"Names?" Larabee snapped.

"Maude. Donna LaFay -- we met at her place." He grimaced. "Maybe Torrence. All ya'll."

"Torrence?" Larabee said slowly, thunder in his eyes. "*Jacob** Torrence."

Ezra winced. "Yes."

"Calmly. This doesn't include any of Lasater's people. His girlfriend, for example," Josiah intervened.

"Who, Sukie McPherson? Why would she..." Ezra shook his head. "Wait. *Wait*." he scrabbled for a pen, and paper. "Buck took those photos of Lasater and his new girlfriend."

"Bianca."

"Bianca, yes."

"Ezra. Jacob Torrence?"

Ezra looked up at his boss, and gritted his teeth. "There is apparently a possibility that Mr. Torrence believes that the money Maude spent on --" procuring? buying? Avoid the verbs --"on JD was originally ah, his."

There was a long silence. "Maude stole, what?"

"Half a million," Vin said helpfully, and Buck and Nathan's jaws dropped.

"I'm thinking there's a whole story I'm missing here," Nathan said with a frown, and Vin shook his head.

"Later, Nate."

"A cool half a million. From J. C. Torrence," Chris said flatly. "Maude embezzled. Half a million dollars. From the slickest operator it's been my privilege to fail to jail?"

Ezra nodded, reminding himself firmly that Maude Standish's son didn't back down from physical or psychological intimidation. Not even from Larabee. He stood up straight and squared his shoulders.

"What a woman," Josiah chortled, shaking his head in admiration and effortlessly cracking through the rising tension between Chris and Ezra. "Damn, but she's one hell of a lady." He shot a wicked look at Ezra. "One day, son." Nathan was shaking his head at Josiah, but grinning widely nonetheless.

Buck grinned, "Anyone who puts one over old Jake gets my vote."

"Over my dead body," Ezra muttered at Josiah, but it seemed that the last knot had been untied. The others apparently were now regarding Maude in the improbable light of a Robin Hood figure. He considered that notion with some amusement, picturing her face on being enlightened as to her new image. He would need to ensure a photographer was present for the occasion.

"I can arrange that," Chris growled, but the heat seemed to have gone out of his fury, much to Ezra's relief. Vin started laughing, despite Chris's glower, and soon they were all grinning.

Buck was the first to stop, taking the picture that had started all this and frowning at it. "Where's JD now?" he asked absently.

"In class, I guess." Ezra pulled out his pda and checked the calendar. "Topologies," he then added with a shrug, "if the schedule hasn't changed."

"Can you check that?" Chris asked, and Ezra frowned.

"Yes, but--"

"Do it. Vin, Nate. Round the kid up. Safe house -- talk to Malcolm or Leila, get something inconspicuous. Buck, you're staying right here. Josiah and I are going to be your new best buddies. You don't go anywhere without telling one of us. Ezra, you too."

"Aw, and I thought I was already your old best friend," Buck jibed, but nodded.

"What?" Ezra said, startled out of his usual insouciance. "You think--"

"Like he said," Chris jerked a thumb towards Vin. "Why stop at one of you?"

\-------------

JD was bored. What had been so exciting a month ago, so impossible just three months ago, right now felt tedious, time consuming and pointless. He made a noise of disgust and pushed away from his desk and his dissertation.

"JD?" Casey looked up from where she'd been finishing a paper on environmental damage and cattle farming, and frowned.

"Sorry, Case," he said. He stood and peered out the window. As offices went it wasn't much of anything, looking straight into another blank wall, and down, if he was crazy enough to open the window and lean out, onto dumpsters. Mid October it smelled faintly still of rising rot. He hated to think what it was going to be like in high summer.

"Ain't all that," she said, and joined him at the window. He smiled without looking at her. Casey huffed an impatient sigh. "You could just go see him."

"It's not that."

"No?" Casey twisted a little to lean against the window frame and stared at him disbelievingly, her arms folded over her chest.

JD shrugged, picking compulsively at a non-existent hangnail. "More important they catch whoever they're after."

"Oh for--! JD! You won't break his cover or whatever the hell by *phoning** him!"

"I could. Buck said--"

"Buck said? *Buck** said? Buck Wilmington would say anything!" she snapped. "I'm amazed he hasn't tried to set you up with 'a nice young filly' or a gay friend of his, or --" Her eyes narrowed as JD looked away. "JD..."

"Nothing happened. He just wanted to cheer me up--"

"When I get a hold of that, that, *lump** --"

"He meant well, Case." JD stared at his hands, poised, motionless on his keyboard. "I hate this. I want to be *doing** something."

Casey's mouth twitched, but she said merely, "Your dissertation isn't going anywhere on its own like that."

"My dissertation's a piece of shit. I'm starting to hate the damn thing. If it wasn't for that I could --"

"What?"

"Oh, I don't know. It doesn't matter. I just have to wait it out." His jaw tightened, and Casey winced. "I'll be fine," he said, at the look on her face.

"Let's get out of here," she said suddenly.

"What?"

"Out!" She tugged him away from the window. "You're miserable, and I can't get any work done with you whining in the corner there--"

"I wasn't whin-- Casey!" Casey snapped his laptop shut and grabbed JD's backpack. "Casey! I hadn't saved that!"

"Oh, like you'd done any work. If you'd had a piece of paper you'd'a been doodling 'Ezra P Standish' all over it. Little pink hearts and all."

JD blushed, and Casey let out a crack of laughter. "You didn't!" JD shrugged a little.

I miss him, he thought, and although he hadn't said it out loud, Casey touched his shoulder lightly and said gently, "I know, J. It's okay."

She sighed then straightened up, a determined expression on her face. "Enough! How'd you feel about roller blading and a picnic? Last sunny day of the year..."

He sighed, "I wish. I've got class in ten minutes."

"Oh, like you can't cut it just this once," she wheedled, and JD smiled half heartedly.

"What, like you did?" he teased, mildly. She pouted, but it fell away into a wicked grin in moments.

"It's a higher calling."

"I guess agronomic theory wasn't high enough?"

She wrinkled her nose a little, "Oh, it was plenty high."

"You'll never make it as a agronomist if you can't take the stink of farming," he laughed at her, and she laughed right back.

"Oh, I'll do fine, as long as I take regular breaks." She stared at him pointedly, her hands on her lips.

He scratched at the back of his neck, laughing, "Well, to help a friend," he said, and twitched his eyebrows at her.

"You're so kind." She bobbed a curtsy that looked deeply peculiar with the sweater and jeans she was wearing. "Well?"

"Sure." Why not. Maybe getting out into the cool, crisp fall day would help. God knows he hadn't managed to concentrate on anything else today, so what his notes would look like after an hour of topologies while mainly thinking about a pair of green eyes, and dark auburn hair, and that pale, muscled body, and dark, slender cock... He swallowed, shook himself to drive away the uncomfortable thoughts, and said, "I haven't--"

Casey smirked. "I have!" He followed her, locking the office door behind him, down to the locker area, where she produced his own rollerblades with a flourish. "How'd you--"

"I was talking to Aunt Nettie, and she called Vin, and he talked to Ezra, and--" she gestured at the blades, "ta-da!"

JD looked down at them. "Did Ez say anything--"

She shook her head, "Vin fetched them over, just said that Ez was fine."

"Oh." Nothing new over what Buck kept saying, but it was a little comforting to get it from another source. He followed Casey out the building and perched next to her on the steps up into the Math building, pulling on the skates, putting his sneakers into his backpack. "Did he say--"

"He's fine." Casey tugged at the last of the straps, then snapped the last closure. "Doesn't Buck--?"

"He just says he's fine too. Everyone's 'fine'." He didn't mention Buck's kind attempts to cheer him up; or his forbearance when JD curled up at the end of the couch and didn't speak for hours at a time. It couldn't be much fun having a strange man in your bachelor pad, cramping your style. He'd interrupted more than one private little date, and Buck had shrugged it off as though it didn't trouble him in the least.

Buck dragged him out to see more movies in the last month than he'd seen in the last two years, had encouraged him to meet friends, had offered to take him out to Inez's place again. He meant well, and JD had even enjoyed some of it. The fight over the washing up, where they had both ended up soaked, Buck wearing a dripping dishcloth on his head and JD poking bubbles out of his ear had reduced them both to helpless laughter, and the kind of silence that was warmer than the chatter of strangers. Or Buck's attempt to discuss his project with him. Buck had taken JD's ill suppressed giggles good-naturedly, and then started on NASCAR, about which JD knew nothing, and enjoyably drubbed JD at a game based on it.

Buck said as little as he could about the investigation details; just passed on the minimum to keep JD aware that Ezra was alive and well. JD didn't dare ask for more, afraid of what they might ask in return.

"Come on!" Casey crouched then stood and twirled. "Hurry up!"

JD checked the fastenings and pushed himself to his feet. "Sheesh, where's the fire?"

Casey started down the road, then grinned over her shoulder, "Come on!"

 

He had to admit, it was a pretty good idea, this. His thighs ached from the unaccustomed workout, but it was a good ache, his lungs felt full of clean cold air instead of stuffed up with being inside the whole damn time, and the joy of skating, half running, half gliding, came back so quickly. He was smiling, his face aching, as they wove in and out of the foot traffic and bicycles.

"Over here?" JD called to Casey, who was inscribing little half circles as she skated. She set her feet apart a little wider and turned on the spot.

"What?"

JD pointed to an empty bench.

"Cool!" They followed the path as close as it would take them then walked clumsily the rest of the way over the soft bark.

"You should call him," she said, flopping down onto the bench and sprawling out gracelessly.

"Can't." JD stared at the cell phone in his hands like he'd never seen it before, turning its over and over.

"Why not?"

JD shrugged, keeping his eyes on the slim silver oblong. "'Cause."

Casey sighed, and even without looking at her he knew she'd just rolled her eyes.

"Men! JD, there ain't no harm--"

"Oh, don't give me that, Casey, you know why not," he said wearily. "He's ATF. I'm a liability. Gay boyfriend; undercover op. They don't mix well."

"You could -- you could meet up somewhere. If he's good as Vin says then--"

"Case -- " he closed his eyes, trying not to listen to the arguments that he'd tried himself, then sighed, looking across the quiet park. "He's got to call me. I can't call him. I don't know where he is, or who he's with, or even if the number I have for him right now goes to a phone that's in his pocket or locked up in Larabee's desk." He stopped, stared blankly at the path.

"Hey," she shifted up closer and nudged his shoulder with hers. "He'll call."

"What if he can't?"

"You mean what if he's -- if there's a problem? JD Dunne, you're a moron, ya know that?"  
JD half smiled at her. "You tell me often enough."

"That's 'cause it's *true**. Idiot," she added, but fondly. "You think the boys wouldn't come get you if there was a problem? You think they wouldn't tell you if he was in hospital, or dead, or whatever awful, stupid things you're driving yourself crazy with?"

JD bit his lip and didn't look up.

"J. D." Casey swatted upside the back of his head. "Idiot's too good. You think Vin would do that? You think Buck could keep a secret for ten seconds? You think Josiah wouldn't do anything he could to make sure Ezra was happy?" She sat back and shook her head. "Sheesh."

"I don't know them like you do, Case," he said shortly, "and by the way," rubbing his head, "ow!"

"You deserved it."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Moron."

"Tart."

"Lame brain."

"Romantic."

"That's below the belt, Dunne," she protested, but grinned at him affectionately. She leaned over a little and whispered, "And in case you were wondering, no, he hasn't forgotten about you. Betya."

He sighed, but let it slide. It was just paranoid to be afraid that with a month apart, Ezra might have reconsidered their rather unconventional relationship. A thought struck him and he brightened. He had the best part of a year to run on the contract yet. If Ezra wanted out, he'd have a fight on his hands.

"That's better," Casey smiled and nudged at him again. "You big dope."


End file.
